


Being and Everythingness

by Shadowplay



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-13
Updated: 2002-03-13
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowplay/pseuds/Shadowplay
Summary: It's 2002. Mulder's quest is over and it's time for him to get a life with Skinner, who has to deal with some health and family issues.





	Being and Everythingness

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Being and Everythingness

## Being and Everythingness

#### by cdavis

Title: Being and Everythingness  
Author: cdavis  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website:   
Date Archived: 03/13/02  
Category: Unclassified     
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner         
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers:   
Permission to Archive: DitB by auto archive  
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes: Many thanks to dot and Xanthe for betaing above and beyond, plus major hand-holding. Extra thanks to dot for wrestling my grammar and sentence structure into submission.  
Warnings:   
Disclaimer:   
Summary: It's 2002. Mulder's quest is over and it's time for him to get a life with Skinner, who has to deal with some health and family issues.

* * *

Being and Everythingness  
by cdavis 

Walter stared morosely at his reflection as he shaved, wondering why he had even bothered to get out of bed this morning. His life was a mess, his career was a mess, and he was a mess. His face was showing the effects of a four-month binge on alcohol, his car was wrecked, and he couldn't even get his cock up anymore. He didn't think Mulder was a mess yet, but he was sure if he could find out if the man was alive, and where he was, given enough time he would ruin him too. Then again, if Mulder were dead he'd probably get to be a mess all on his own. 

His stomach wasn't interested in breakfast, but he thought that if he could have a nice cup of coffee with a couple thousand aspirin maybe his head would stop pounding. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, stepped into his slippers and thought his decision making was done for the day. He counted the steps as he went downstairs, and as far as he could remember there were the same number as yesterday. 

This was all a mistake, he realized, as he rubbed his forehead. Why had he let himself be steered into moving in with his sister-in-law? He got the distinct impression she was trying to put the make on him, and that made him edgy and nervous on top of everything else. He regretted the evenings, fuzzy with drugs in the hospital, when he had let Judy wear him down into sub-letting his condo and moving in so she could 'take care of him'. He felt like he had lost his purpose. After he had taken early retirement from the FBI there didn't seem to be much to consume his time, so he consumed alcohol. And where was Mulder? Why hadn't Mulder come back? Why had Mulder deserted him? 

He yawned hugely as he entered the kitchen and found Judy sitting at the table, which was unusual for this time of the morning. However, since it was her house he figured she could sit where she pleased, so he busied himself with preparing his coffee. 

"Walter, I think it is time we had a talk." 

He turned and took in the fact she was sitting up very straight, with her hands folded on the table, and didn't like what this portended one little bit. "Okay," he agreed, sitting down with his cup. "What would you like to talk about?" 

"I want you to leave." 

He would have killed for some aspirin. "Look, Judy, I know things haven't been going well for a while, but I'm sure...." 

"No, Walter, I've thought about it, and I don't want you in this house any more. I don't want you around my children." 

"If it's the drinking, I can stop, I've just been...." 

"It's not the drinking, but that hasn't helped. I thought when I took you in after your heart attack that you'd realize that I was more than your brother's widow. I've waited for so long, Walter. I waited until after Sharon was gone, and I thought you had nobody and would need me." 

Walter wondered if he was going to be allowed to finish a sentence. "I don't know what you're...." 

"I'm talking about whoever this Mulder fellow is." 

"What about Mulder?" He had a definite feeling he wasn't going to like the answer to this one. 

"When you're drunk you talk about Mulder. You're in love with this Mulder." 

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead in his hand thinking: well, this is it. He really wished his brain were functioning with more than one cell. "What gave you that idea?" If he had given himself away he wanted to know how, and if there was any way of tap-dancing his way out of this he was willing to try it. 

"Well, Walter, it has taken me a little while to fit all the pieces together. How about all the times you would run off leaving Sharon here in the middle of a visit because you got a phone call from that man. The instances where it was impossible for us to do something together because you already had plans that had something to do with Mulder. And after Sharon died it was more Mulder than ever. Now, are you going to deny it?" She raised her voice as if daring him to. 

"No, I can't do that," he said to his teacup, then looked up at her. Her hair reminded him of Sharon's. Hadn't he had a similar conversation about Mulder-interuptus with his wife? "But you've got to understand that I..." 

"I've got to understand?! I've got to understand you're more interested in bedding another man instead of me?! That the man who stepped in after Frank died to be like a second father to my children is a queer?! How can I understand this, Walter?" 

"Judy, I think you're blowing this all out of proportion." He knew trying to explain was going to be useless. "He was my friend, he was the best friend I had. He saved my life...." 

"I wanted to be the best friend you have, Walter. I wanted to be your wife. After Sharon died and you moved in here, I thought that was the way it was going to be." 

"I love you, Judy, just not that way. To me you'll always be Frank's wife." 

She slammed her hand down on the table, making his coffee mug jump. "Do you know how many years ago that was, Walter? Frank died fifteen years ago. It's very easy to say you love me. Do you say that to Mulder, too?" 

"Why don't we leave Mulder out of this?" he growled, finding himself on the defensive. The way she said Mulder's name annoyed him. 

"How can we? Unless you're willing to never see him again." 

"Shit, I don't even know where he is!" 

"But you want to fuck him." 

He slid his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes. She was really pissing him off, and he was beginning to think his brother had died out of self-preservation. What he wanted with Mulder was none of her damn business, family or not, unless he chose to tell her on his own terms. He slid his fingers to the side to press on his temples, where the cannon accompaniment to the 1812 Overture seemed to be playing. 

"Why don't you want to make love to me?" she demanded. "Aren't I attractive enough? Am I too old? The wrong gender?" 

"Judy, if you'd just calm down maybe we can talk about...." 

"I don't want to talk with you anymore. I'm tired of talking with you. Go move in with that faggot. I don't love you anymore, Walter. I can't. I think you're disgusting." 

Walter sat stunned. "What...?" 

"I'd like you out of this house immediately. Leave a number when you're settled so my lawyer can contact you about removing your things." 

"Judy?" He watched as she walked out of the kitchen; he'd seen her do that before, but this was the first time she'd walked out of his life, and he was having a hard time dealing with it. She'd always been there, the picture of the happy working mother. He wondered if she was afraid of being alone, now that Lauren was off at college and Christopher soon to spread his wings. He knew about being lonely, and it wasn't much fun, but the person he wanted to be not lonely with was the one who had by increments become necessary to his life and well being. He got up from the table, his coffee untouched, went out to his rental car, and started driving. He didn't know what to do, only that he had to find Mulder. 

* * *

Mulder was having a terrible time finding a spot to settle in the huge house given to him in gratitude for saving the planet. Who knew that every country that wasn't more concerned with blowing up its neighbor had a Consortium cell plus its opposite number? Mulder had never realized how alone he wasn't until he had disappeared into Europe and been embraced by others deep into the counter-alien alliance. There he had accidentally discovered what he had been genetically engineered for. His contribution had enabled them to wipe out any alien or hybrid they cared to. And now he was back in the US, gifted with an obscenely large house along the Potomac in Great Falls, surrounded by the mansions of philanthropists and politicos in the most well protected neighborhood in several states. The military that had once despised and tried to intimidate him now kept a well-disguised eye out for his safety. It was all quite hush-hush except that he was given the unpublicized honor of being the only individual in America with the word PEACE as his car's vanity plate - he hadn't wanted it, but it was insisted upon. They were protecting the goose that laid the golden egg. He got a little shiver at the thought. 

The garden was too cold to sit in, the kitchen too hot; the only place that would be just right would have Walter in it, but that particular fantasy was fading fast. He hadn't even been able to talk to him on the phone; Walter's cell phone number was no longer in service. He had stopped by the Crystal City condo, but the doorman told him Mr. Skinner no longer lived there. Frohike had finally traced an address and a number, but the woman who answered the phone told him Walter didn't want to speak to him. He'd left a message but as the days passed and he hadn't gotten a call back he began to worry that she may have been telling the truth. He had picked up the phone and set it back down more times then he could count, and even toyed with the idea of driving over to ask him in person, but the one time he had worked up enough courage to try, Walter's car hadn't been there. He could have just requested Walter Skinner from the shadows looking out for his welfare and have had him delivered, like pizza, but that wasn't the way he wanted it. He needed Walter to come to him of his own free will. 

It wasn't enough that he'd saved the world. He wanted Walter. Before he had left there had only been time for revelations, declarations and promises between them. Now his world seemed empty. 'Without you, babe' his unconscious supplied in Diana Ross' voice. 

His days were growing incredibly long, filled with an increasing sense of dread that he had misunderstood what Walter had meant when he'd said he loved him, and his aversion to sleeping just gave him more hours to fill. He went down to the living room and flipped through his CDs, but nothing appealed to him. He knew picking out a book would be useless; he didn't have the concentration to read. So he sat on the couch and stared at the blank TV screen and thought once more about how empty his life would be without Walter. He didn't even have the heart to put on a porn tape. 

* * *

It had been five months since Walter realized something had changed. A man he had never seen before had appeared in his office at the Hoover with a palm pilot and told him, in effect, that it was over. Walter had thought the pain in his chest was the end for him, but when he woke up in the hospital and was subjected to a series of lectures about the dangers of high cholesterol, high blood pressure and stress, he realized he had been freed. Something else must have been over, and he indulged in a leap of logic to guess that Mulder had had something to do with it. He had stared out the window wondering what had happened, or hadn't happened. He waited for Mulder to reappear after his long absence, but there hadn't been a visit from him, only Judy with her children Lauren and Christopher in tow, And now he didn't even have them. 

Walter drove aimlessly, carried along with the flow of traffic, until he realized he was headed for Mulder's apartment. Although he and Scully and Doggett and probably a few hundred other people had been through the place looking for clues of Mulder's whereabouts at one time or another, he harbored a small grain of hope that maybe this time he could find something. He was thoroughly amazed that the apartment was unlocked, and a bespectacled teenager was sitting at a small table at the entrance with a roll of tickets. 

"That'll be twenty dollars," the boy told him. 

Walter may have been down, and he may have been almost out, and he may really have wanted a drink, but he planted his fists on his hips and glared down at the presumptuous teen. "What?" he demanded. 

"Admission. This is, like, the Fox Mulder museum. He was abducted by aliens and stuff." The boy glanced around nervously as if looking for reinforcements. "We've got to pay the rent." 

Walter placed both hands, palm down, on the table in front of the boy. "Where is Mulder?" he demanded. 

The kid leaned as far back, and away, as he could, and ended up knocking his head against the wall behind him. "He's in Great Falls. But you can't go there. They'll do terrible things to you if you try to get past the security fence. It's worse than breaking into the basement of the FBI building." 

He decided he didn't want to know about that. "Give me the address." He hoped his growl was still effective enough to get him the information he needed. 

"You don't have to get all bent out of shape, dude," the teen grumbled as he wrote the address on the back of a ticket. "That'll be twenty dollars." 

He grabbed the ticket. "Bill me." 

"Yeah, bill me too, Baldy." 

He ground his teeth in the effort to refrain from punching the insolent boy from here to Tuesday and headed back down to his rental car. 

* * *

Harry Granger looked out the window at the car stopped before his gate. It wasn't much of a car, but Harry knew better than to judge by those sorts of trappings. He raised his spyglass and peered at the driver. 

"Mary, he's finally here," he called to his wife, who was busy at a large kettle hanging in the gatehouse's walk-in fireplace. 

"It's about time he made an appearance," she grumbled, grabbing the scope and shouldering her husband aside. "Open the gate and let Mr. Skinner in." Men, she thought to herself, have to be told every little thing. The earth knew when it needed protecting and she and her Harry had come a long way to watch over those who were needed. And if a Fox Mulder needed a Walter Skinner then who was she to nay-say it? 

* * *

The sound of a car coming up his drive had Mulder immediately at the window, and the sight of the man in the rental sent him running for the front door. He opened it and the smile froze on his face as took in Walter's expression and posture. Mulder stepped back and gestured Walter into his home, then grimaced slightly as the man stepped over the threshold and was enveloped by a fine mist. 

"Sorry." Mulder produced a handkerchief and blotted the top of Walter's head. "Still a few bugs in the recognition program." 

Walter batted the fussing hands away and took Mulder by the upper arms, staring intently into his eyes. "Where the hell have you been?" 

"A lot of places. But lately I've been right here." Mulder shrugged as well as he could. 

"Judy threw me out. Unless you want to throw me out too, I guess you're stuck with me." 

Normally he would have struggled against the restraint but found he didn't mind the feel of these big hands gripping his biceps. "Hello, Walter. Nice to see you again. What are you talking about? And who the hell is Judy?" 

"A lot of things have happened since you took off for who knows where..." 

"I'll say," Mulder nodded energetically. 

Walter gave him a shake. "Don't interrupt me. I wasn't able to finish a sentence all morning." 

Mulder leaned in, rubbing against Walter's cheek on his way to the closest ear. "Well, far be it from me to butt in. I only saved the world so I'm sure what you have to tell me is much more important," he whispered. 

Walter gave him a push and held him at arms' length. "What?!" 

"No, no. I don't want to interrupt." Mulder smiled in a manner guaranteed to irritate while Walter stared at him through slitted eyes. "You were saying?" 

"I've resigned from the FBI, been drunk for about four months, impotent, living with my sister-in-law who tried to get me into her bed - god only knows why - and now she's thrown me out." 

"So, this is Lauren and Christopher's mother?" 

"How do you know about them?" 

"You talk to Kim. Kim talks to Scully. Scully talks to me -- or at least she does when she feels like it. There are very few secrets that are safe in the naked city." 

"Where's your phone? I have to call the kids. I don't know what Judy is going to tell them...." 

Mulder felt completely at sea until a lesson his mother had drummed into him surfaced: when in doubt, play host. "Would you like anything to eat?" 

* * *

Mulder puttered in the kitchen making up a tray with little bites of anything he thought Walter might find appealing. The man hadn't had any breakfast or lunch, and said he didn't want any dinner, which in Muldertalk meant 'yes, I am very hungry, but you're going to have to coax me to eat' so he figured it might mean something similar in Skinnerspeak. Walter's stomach rumblings had increased in frequency while the man gave a comprehensive overview of the day up to that point, so Mulder decided that if he could present something that didn't really look like a meal he might be able to get Walter to eat it. It also gave him something to do instead of hovering nervously while an anxious Walter phoned his niece and nephew. 

Mulder brought in the tray and stationed it on the coffee table in front of Walter as Walter hung up the phone. "Go okay?" Mulder asked. Walter struck him as the sort of person to whom family would mean a lot, and even though he had every intention of putting in his bid to become the most important part of Walter's family he didn't want to see him lose touch with his brother's kids. As for that sister-in-law...he had a few thoughts about that situation. 

"I told them I wanted to talk to them face to face. Lauren said to come at Spring Break. She needs time to think." 

Mulder nudged the tray closer to him. "Eat something," he encouraged. 

Walter reached for a cracker and his hand trembled just enough to make Mulder wish he'd put peanut butter on it rather than chunks of tuna, which were threatening to fall off. He noted that the boy wasn't mentioned, which didn't bode well, but he thought better of asking. He popped the top of a Pepsi and placed it in Walter's other hand. There was no way he was going to offer a drink. He was about to ask why Walter hadn't returned his phone call, when the sudden realization struck him. 

"Y'know, Judy must have been the person who said you didn't want to speak to me when I called. And you never called back so...." 

"Shit. She didn't tell me." 

Mulder shrugged. "I thought you would have called, but you were probably pretty busy having your life fall down around your ears." 

"I was probably pretty drunk." He popped the cracker into his mouth and chewed distractedly. 

"Can I ask what happened between you and..." 

"Us. She deduced that I am in love with you." 

"Oh." There wasn't much he could say to that, although the declaration did make him smile. 

"She said I was disgusting. Didn't think too much of you, either." 

"I can imagine." Mulder wasn't surprised. He'd spent the greater portion of his life with people not thinking much of him, when they bothered to think of him at all. 

"There's no reason in the world you should want me, Fox. I'm a mess." 

"I've already told you I love you." He knocked Walter in the side with an elbow. "Even if you are a mess." He got a bark of a laugh at that. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning. 

"So." Walter rubbed his face, tiredly. "You mentioned something about saving the world?" 

"Yes I did. And that's why I get to live in this modest little hovel and am now watched over by the NSA, CIA, Secret Service, Green Berets, and probably the entire graduating class of black belts from the local martial arts academy. I'm a MUFON project. Oh, also the FBI - but that happened after you had retired so I bet no one told you. They don't come into the compound, but it's still rather disconcerting." He shifted closer on the couch to the gaping ex-AD. "How would you like to be my personal Marine escort?" he purred suggestively. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I fulfilled my prime directive. Genetically manipulated little me." Mulder gave his chest a self-deprecating pat. "Did you know that every country that wasn't more interested in destroying its neighbor had a Consortium faction and also a group or individual who was opposing them, like I did here? I met up with a bunch of my opposite numbers in Europe. We had a convention." 

"I don't remember hearing anything about...." 

"It's not the sort of thing that's going to be shouted from the rooftops." 

"Am I going to be sorry if I ask why?" 

"We were in a nice little bar in Stockholm and I'd had a few beers and found I really needed to offload some if I wanted to drink more." 

"I knew I'd be sorry," Walter groaned. 

"So I was at the urinal, doing my thing, and this guy in our group comes in and within a few seconds hits the floor making very uncomplimentary noises. I turned, a little too quickly, saw that the skin around his mouth, nose and eyes was getting all red and blistering and I...uh...dribbled on him. He started to scream and his arm began dissolving. Well, that shook me up enough that I...well...there wasn't much left of him after I'd finished but neutralized green goo." 

Walter blinked slowly, then gave him a comradely punch in the arm, one warrior to another. "You knocked off an alien infiltrator!" 

"Actually, to be technically correct, I pissed off an alien infiltrator. My urine is a weapon of mass alien destruction." 

"You're one big security leak," Walter laughed. 

"I pee for peace." Mulder nodded. "Speaking of which, there are collection devices in the bathrooms but you won't have to worry about using one by mistake - they're accessed by my thumbprint. There's a team that comes in for retrieval, so don't let that bother you. They're stockpiling and freezing it for the future." 

"I'm surprised you didn't take out the crew of the UFO when you were abducted. Unless you held it for 6 months." 

"No, with all the tests they performed they'd have found out I was toxic to them early on. As far as I can tell, it probably happened while I was just lying around on my back for a long time...not moving...in the dark..." 

"Dead," Walter supplied helpfully. 

"Yeah, a little. Something to do with nothing circulating, liquids pooling, your typical grave scenario." 

Walter twisted and pulled Mulder into his arms for a hug then settled back against the couch, leaving one arm across the other man's shoulders. "I'm glad you're okay." 

"Not only that, but we have free beer for life! There's a walk-in fridge with a couple of bottles of every label brewed." He reached up to give Walter's hand a squeeze, regretting for a moment the mention of alcohol. "They like to keep the pump primed." 

* * *

True to his word, Walter hadn't even gone near the bar set-up since he'd arrived, and hadn't had a drink since the night before that. The absence of severe DTs made Mulder wonder if Walter had really been drinking as heavily as he'd attested. They had slept together last night but, aside from being comprehensively cuddled, there hadn't been much action in the king-sized bed. Apparently the impotence thing hadn't been such an exaggeration, he mused with no little disappointment as he brushed his teeth. 

"That's great. That's really great!" Walter's voice boomed. 

Mulder poked his head out of the bathroom in time to see a pair of Walter's jeans fly across the room and hit the wall. "What?" 

"I left my damn wallet at Judy's. What the hell am I going to do?" 

"Uhhhh...." He wished this discovery had occurred when he was feeling more awake. 

"I don't have my driver's license, my credit cards...I don't have any money, or my check book...." 

Mulder knew perfectly well Walter had arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back, and didn't want him to depress himself further by thinking about the things he didn't have. "Why don't I call Byers? He'd go pick it up for you." 

Walter sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "I don't want to involve anyone else in this." 

"Somebody's going to have to be involved. I mean, I'll go if you want, but I don't think that would make anyone very happy." He couldn't believe he had offered, and was relieved to be taken off the hook by the horrified expression on Walter's face. "Okay, here's the deal," he suggested, taking Walter by the arm and getting him to stand. "I'll make the call, if you make some coffee." Watching the slump-shouldered figure exit the room he decided that he'd better come up with a few little things that Walter could busy himself with, just to keep him from sitting and staring at his hands all day. 

Mulder finished shaving and got dressed, then picked up the projectile jeans and placed them, neatly folded, on a chair. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with the phone, he took a few deep breaths. Calling any of the Gunmen wasn't the problem; he was nearly bursting to tell somebody that his bachelor days were going to be over. However, considering the circumstances, he had a feeling he should just stick to the facts and try not to sound smug about it. 

* * *

John Byers picked up the second line and shook his head at Langly, who, unrepentant, continued to watch the reel-to-reel record the conversation. "Hello, Mulder. What can I do for you?" There was a disconcerted pause before the other man spoke. 

"Well, as a matter of fact, that's what I was calling about. We need a favor." 

He thought he knew who 'we' was, and went for the more obvious question first. "What kind of favor?" 

"It's not going to be an easy one," Mulder warned. "Walter got tossed out by his sister-in-law and he left without his wallet. I need you to go beard the harpy in her lair and rescue the Billfold of Happiness." 

"And Mr. Skinner is over there?" Of course he was at Mulder's. Where else would he be? 

"Well, where else would he be?" Mulder snapped at him. 

Now Langly was standing before him, palm up, having already collected his "How Long Will It Take For Skinner To Find Mulder" pool winnings from Frohike. Byers sighed heavily and reached for his money. "Give me a couple of hours. Frohike and I are trying to dissuade Langly from using the Tengwar of Feanor." 

"You're speaking in tongues again, my friend." 

"Goodbye, Mulder." 

* * *

Having just endured the most uncomfortable ten minutes of his life Byers figured the dynamic duo now owed him big time. Once he had explained his mission Judy Skinner had given him a look that could have frozen molten lava, and the encounter hadn't gone uphill from there. He decided he wouldn't pass on her parting remark, and didn't really think she expected him to; she had just been venting her displeasure on the nearest available male. 

He knocked on Mulder's door and was immediately confronted by a wild-eyed Mulder in the firm grip of panic. Byers wished he could just toss the hard-won billfold into the house then turn tail and run but his pragmatism, along with a large dose of curiosity, took over. He opened the umbrella he carried for entering Mulder's new digs, shouldered his way inside out of the cold February air, re-furled the now damp device and stuck it in the stand by the door. He proceeded, unencumbered, into the living room and looked around. "Where's Walter?" 

"I don't know!" The voice was half an octave higher than Byers was used to. He sat down on the couch, slipping off his heavy jacket, as Mulder paced, elaborating with his hands. "He answered the phone and talked for a few minutes. When he hung up he poured a drink and threw it out on the porch, then ran to the car and drove away. He's been gone for almost an hour. I don't know where he went, and he doesn't even have a cell phone or his driver's license." 

Byers took the wallet from his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. 

"Thank you," Mulder calmed down enough to say as he picked it up. "I hope it wasn't too horrible." 

"Horrible enough to earn me a cup of coffee. It's freezing out there." 

"He isn't even wearing a coat." Mulder stood staring out the window for a while before he shook himself. "Right. Coffee. I'm sorry. I'll go get it." 

Byers took out his Palm Pilot and made a note for Frohike to take a look at the recognition device on the door. He had a sneaking suspicion the man had set the scanner at his own height as a prank to mist anyone taller with the weapons grade, deodorized, anti-alien substance produced by Mulder's body. 

Mrs. Skinner's last shot as she handed the wallet over ( 'I don't know why he needs this unless Mulder charges for his services' ( had tempted him to tell her a thing or two, but he had managed to keep his mouth shut. He firmly believed that discretion was almost always the better part of valor. But her barb had him wondering about the circumstances that had finally brought Walter Skinner to Mulder's door. He wondered if Skinner was thinking about moving in permanently, but somehow couldn't see Mulder allowing him to live anywhere else, even if he wanted to. 

Byers' coffee arrived, just the way he liked it, and he sipped at it while Mulder nervously flitted around the room, unable to light anywhere. "Sit down," Byers suggested. "Skinner'll be back soon." 

"What if he's run out of gas? He couldn't buy any, and he doesn't even have the change to use a pay phone. He might be standing somewhere by the side of the road, in the cold...." 

"Skinner's a big boy, Mulder. There's no need to call out the National Guard, or any of your other watchers. He can take care of himself. Stop worrying." He knew he might as well be talking to the air. 

"At least he didn't have that drink," Mulder muttered as he perched on the arm of a chair and watched the driveway. 

Keeping tabs on Walter Skinner was a service the Lone Gunmen had provided for Mulder, even if they had never informed Mulder about it. It wasn't any secret to them that Skinner had been hitting the bottle quite heavily, and Byers hoped for everybody's sake that it had only been the stress of health and career upheaval, and that now he'd want to quit. Setting his cup down, Byers took a long look at the worried man. 

He saw Mulder's back straighten at the sound of a car coming up the drive, and wondered how many seconds courtesy would require him to stay before he could make his excuses and a graceful exit. But then he'd have to go home and face an escalating war of elegant, alternate, typefaces. 

* * *

Walter had never liked the sound of doors closing, unless he was on the correct side of them; he much preferred the welcoming noises they made as they swung open to let him in. The phone call from Judy's lawyer that morning had not only slammed one in his face but locked and triple bolted it as well. Needing time to think, he drove aimlessly through the neighborhood, passing more fenced and gated estates. More doors, he thought as he slipped a tape into the car deck and Freddie Mercury informed him that there was nothing he could do about it. His foot pressed down harder on the accelerator and the sluggish pick-up of the rental reminded him how much he missed his Jag. There were a lot of things he was going to miss, he thought unhappily as he stopped, waiting to be let back through Mulder's gate. He clenched his hands tightly around the steering wheel, trying to still the trembling of his body as it demanded a dose of its accustomed anesthetic, and congratulated himself for tossing the drink out the door instead of down his throat. Running away had never been his style, and since Judy obviously wanted him out of her life after all the finagling she had done to get him into her house, he planned to walk out with as much dignity as he could muster. He pulled up behind a VW bus and spent a moment staring at Mulder's huge Tudor house, feeling grateful he had someone he could turn to, no matter what variety of shit was hitting the fan. 

He was greeted at the doorway with a concerned, "Where have you been?" and read the 'I've been worried' in the hazel eyes. Skinner took off his glasses before darting through the portal to avoid having to wipe them dry afterwards. 

"Nowhere," he admitted resettling his eyewear, "but I'm back now." He administered a brief hug, then shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking as he headed for the living room. Byers was already getting up from the couch wearing a 'I'll just be leaving you two alone' smile which turned a little sickly at Walter's request: "Mr. Byers, I need another favor." 

* * *

Mulder glanced at the car clock, then checked his rear-view mirror to make sure Byers was still following in the small U-Haul. The lawyer had been very specific about the hours Walter's sister-in-law would be away from the house to allow them to pack up, and they were cutting their arrival close. Walter was silent during the ride, and Mulder had to bite back his inclination to burble. Everything was going according to plan. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Walter going over the list of his things they had compiled; it had taken quite a bit of tact to convince him to do it. Mulder didn't want another wallet incident on their hands. 

Walter unlocked the door and they all followed him into the hallway, only to be confronted with a huge mound of clothes at the base of the stairs that had obviously been thrown down from the next floor and left there. Mulder took one look at Walter's face and began pushing the heap away from the steps. "I'll start getting these into the truck," he offered, and gathered up an armful as the others trooped on by. By his fourth trip he was feeling uncomfortably warm and slipped out of his coat. 

When he had finished, the others were still dealing with books and recorded music, so he went into the living area. There he found yet another pile of Walter's belongings, along with a note that said Walter was free to take anything that had been set aside. Sorting through the accumulation he realized Judy had already done most of their work for them, and marveled at her restraint; nothing here was slashed or broken, which would have been one of his first impulses. He tossed a number of items that hadn't been on their list onto the couch for Walter take a look at, then went into the kitchen for some paper bags to carry the rest in. 

After he finished bagging he turned his attention back to the stuff on the sofa and wondered if he shouldn't take them along, too, and let Walter decide what to do with them later. The trinkets were obviously gifts to the woman that she no longer had any desire to keep. He had an urge to stuff them in the wastebasket and leave them as a statement, but argued himself out of it. He was supposed to be helping, not making things worse. Before he had made up his mind on exactly how to handle the things on the couch the others came in and started removing the paper bags. 

"Do you want any of this?" he finally had to ask. 

Walter studied the display sadly, then turned to Byers. "Do you think I ought to take everything?" 

"I don't know," Byers admitted, picking up a dilapidated teddy bear. "I've never done this before." 

"That," Walter mumbled, relieving the Gunman of the stuffed animal, "is mine." 

"Everything was here, except for a photo from the family room...." Mulder watched fondly as the man he was already thinking of as his lover left, clutching the old bear, and was thankful he had an attic where he'd be very happy to see some of the things they were carting away stored. He looked to Byers, hoping to get an opinion from someone. "Should we take this other stuff or not?" 

"I think it was just meant as a little dig - she might decide later that she wants it. Whatever we do will be wrong, anyway." 

"Everything packed?" Mulder dry washed his hands, eager to be away. 

"Yeah, most of the books were already in boxes upstairs. We made it within the stated time parameters." 

"I've got everything under control," Mulder assured. 

"Seems like you do," Byers agreed, and headed out for the U-Haul. 

* * *

Walter sat on the edge of the bed and tossed yet another dried up felt-tip into the wastebasket. It was apparent the entire personal contents of his Bureau office had been upended into boxes after he had completed his retirement paperwork. Since he had been given his exit interview while in the hospital, Personnel had been more interested in putting another person in his office than waiting for him to show up and clear it out himself. Now he had the task of sorting it out. 

Mulder was busy distributing the clothing they had brought back into piles to be thrown away, washed, or dry-cleaned. Walter had given up on trying to convince Mulder that just because his clothes had been on the floor, or were wrinkled from having been stuffed in the truck, didn't mean they were dirty. He would have been a bit more vehement if it had meant that either of them would have had the chores of washing and ironing, but Mulder had assured him that Mrs. Granger would have it all done in no time. And heaven forbid he should try to change Mulder's mind once he had an idea firmly planted in his brain. 

"Wow! I don't believe these!!!" Mulder's amazed voice got him to look up and see his lover shake out an old pair of bellbottoms. 

"Toss 'em," he muttered, and went back to encouraging a pen to make a mark on the back of an envelope. 

"I bet they'll fit." 

"They haven't fit in a hundred years. I don't know why I've kept them. Throw them out." 

"No," Mulder clarified, skinning out of his jeans, "I bet they'll fit me." 

Skinner watched as the faded jeans were pulled on and zipped up; the material was a bit loose in the front and around the thighs. He took in the over-all effect when Mulder went over to get a look at himself in the mirror, and decided they were just fine. 

"Just a little tight in the seat," Mulder muttered, shifting around to ease the fit. 

Skinner waited hopefully for his body's Pavlovian response to the sight of the luscious ass held captive by the faded denim, but it turned out his appreciation would have to remain purely intellectual. "Keep the jeans. You look good in them." 

"Groovy," Mulder grinned, flashing him the peace sign. "Let's see what else is in here." 

"If you find anything you like, it's yours." 

"Oh, good," Mulder said, giving him a look from under lowered lashes that would have been coy if it hadn't been so predatory. "I like you." 

* * *

As Walter dressed, he noted his hands were trembling a lot less this morning, and hoped the detoxing wouldn't take too much longer. If he had been in any state to give a thought to what he had been doing to himself, he would never have downed that first pint of scotch in one sitting. His brain must have been on an extended vacation at that weird place Mulder's occasionally visited. He blessed Mulder's unusual display of tact in the last two days at not mentioning his shakes, kissing him to check his breath, or marking the levels on the liquor bottles. Walter hadn't had any doubts he could kick the booze, and it made him feel even stronger that his lover shared his certainty. He wished his cock would wake up to the fact that Mulder would welcome an end to their celibacy as much as he would, but it remained as frustratingly disinterested as ever. 

He glanced at the bed and sighed at one more glaring abnormality. Mulder was downstairs already, probably cooking him a breakfast he wasn't sure he wanted. He headed down for the kitchen wondering what life was going to throw at him today. 

After yesterday's fiasco, with Mulder preparing a full breakfast that Walter could hardly look at, much less eat, and the resultant lecture by Mrs. Granger about the mess she'd have to clean up, he wasn't surprised that this morning's food preparation had been very restrained. After he finished his slightly over-toasted English Muffin and jelly he thought that some eggs would go down very nicely, and got up to investigate the refrigerator. Mulder was immediately at his side, radiating helpfulness. 

"Would you like something else? What can I get you?" 

"I thought I'd scramble up some eggs. Want some?" Walter asked, locating the carton. 

"Here, let me." Mulder grabbed the cardboard container before he could get his hands on it and took it to the counter where he busily got to work. 

Leaning against the table feeling pretty useless, he watched as Mulder got the frying pan ready, then mixed the ingredients in a white china bowl. "If you don't want me messing up your kitchen, just say so." 

The sound of the whisk stopped and Mulder turned to face him. "What?" 

"I think I could have managed the eggs without burning your house down." 

"What are you talking about? I just want to do something for you." 

"You have been. Constantly. When do I get to do something for you?" He felt as if he were in limbo, hanging around in the big house and floating in whichever direction he was pushed. 

"You want to do something for me?" Mulder asked, pouring his concoction into the frying pan. "I'll tell you what you can do. After you eat you can fix the back door so it won't lock every time someone goes out to the garden. And the next time you're poking around in the closet," he added, scrambling the eggs with a spatula, "you really should get rid of the grey Hugo Boss suit. It always made you look like a banker." 

Skinner pulled up his shirt and slapped his flat stomach. He may have been drinking, but he had also been doing all the exercises prescribed by his cardiologist. "Does this look like a banker?" he demanded, feeling vaguely insulted. "I've never looked like a banker in my life," he grumbled to himself. 

"Eat your eggs." Mulder served them with a Loretta Young flourish, then kissed the top of Walter's head. 

Walter finished his breakfast, then went to see what could be done about the door. It was quite cold outside, but the weather forecasters had predicted a clear, cloudless, day. 

* * *

By nightfall the snow had stopped but the wind still whistled through the trees, sounding every bit as restless as Walter felt. He got up and prowled the living room, not sure what he was looking for, but being drawn magnetically closer to the liquor cabinet. He was aware his movements were being tracked, and when he stopped and stared at the bottles on the shelf he knew that if Mulder said just one word he would drink himself stupid until he passed out on the couch. The seconds stretched out as he cursed himself for being a bigger fool then he had thought possible and, with the help of the silent support being directed at him from across the room, managed to break away and head out to the kitchen to see if he could make himself something warm and comforting. Hot chocolate would be nice, he thought, and hoped he hadn't finished up the last of the packets with the tiny marshmallows in them the night before. 

He set a pot with milk in it to heat on the stove, then opened the cabinet where he was sure he had seen an unopened box of Swiss Miss, then checked the one next to it. He was about to abort the entire attempt when Mulder wandered in and took an inquisitive look into the pot. 

"Unless you'd care for some warm milk I'm afraid you're out of luck," Walter grumbled, closing a third cabinet door. 

"Why don't we make some hot chocolate?" Mulder asked ingenuously. 

"We can't make it because we don't have anything to make it with." He snarled and slammed his hand down on the counter. After taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, feeling like a heel for being so irritable all evening. "Sorry. I didn't mean to take your head off." 

"It's okay, you've got few things on your mind." Mulder gave him a kiss on the cheek then steered him to sit at the table while he did some very imaginative things with baking chocolate, vanilla, and sugar. "This could turn out to be disgusting," the only-passable chief warned. "Why don't we take these back out by the fire? It's cold in here." 

Joining Mulder on the couch, Walter warmed his hands on the mug and inhaled the steam that rose from it. "Reminds me of being a kid and coming in from playing in the snow," Walter smiled, content to let some pleasant memories take over for a while. 

Mulder took a hesitant taste then smiled apologetically. "It's a little bitter." 

"So was mom's." Walter blew across the top and sipped at it happily. "I made a snow slug once." He sidled over and laid an arm across Mulder's shoulders. 

"A slug?" Mulder laughed. "What in the world for?" 

"Well, it started out to be something else. I had this really grand idea for a dragon, all nasty claws and teeth. But I couldn't get it to stand up on legs, it was just too heavy. And the extra bits fell off as soon as I stuck them on. But I was quite proud of it. I named it Smaug, but I don't think that fooled anybody. It was just a giant slug." 

"No, I think it really was a dragon just pretending to be a slug." Mulder snuggled next to him in the crook of his arm. "You have to watch out for those old worms, they're crafty..." 

The warm body next to him made him think of his own old worm, but it wasn't being crafty at all; he had a dreadful feeling it was dead. Walter placed a kiss on Mulder's hair, thinking how pleasant it was to listen to Mulder's voice drone on without it being a matter of life or death to pay attention to what the man was saying. Poor Mulder, he thought, now that they were in a position to be able to be together his warranty had run out. Walter wondered how long this man, with his rather esoteric sexual tastes, would be content with what he had left to offer. But right now Mulder seemed to be perfectly satisfied to sit on the couch with him, and weave a story about snow dragons. 

* * *

Mulder lay in bed waiting for his goodnight cuddle, but Walter seemed to be taking longer downstairs then he thought necessary just to be sure the fire was out and the flue closed. He hoped Walter hadn't been mesmerized by the liquor cabinet again, but wasn't about to go down and check. Not yet anyway. He wished Walter would come to bed so they could get some rest. Tomorrow's trip up to Bryn Mawr to drop in on Walter's niece was going to be difficult enough without being tired on top of it. When it finally came, the slow tread on the stairs worried him a bit; it sounded as though another of Walter's mood swings was in a downward phase and he hoped the man wouldn't be too disturbed to sleep. However, when Walter came in he looked more thoughtful than depressed, and even gave him a smile before disappearing into the bathroom. Mulder turned off the lamp on his side of the bed, and punched up the pillows again for something to do. 

Presenting himself for a hug, it came as a surprise to find himself being climbed on top of by a very naked Walter, rather than pulled into an embrace. He was divested of his briefs in short order then spread his legs to give his lover room between them, wondering what was up, because Walter certainly wasn't. 

"I love you," Walter told him. Mulder recognized a look of determination behind the smile, and prayed that this time it would work, gearing himself up to doing everything and anything necessary in order to make sure it did. 

He would have liked to answer in kind, but Walter's tongue was in the way so he sucked on it with a will. Walter drew back a fraction and he realized he had been a little too aggressive, so he relaxed against the arms under his back and allowed access to any part of his mouth the busy tongue wanted to explore. His cock was trapped between their bodies and his ass was pressed deeply into the mattress as the heavy man on top of him ground against him in a slow, sensual rhythm. He felt himself stiffening and quickly lost track of anything else; it had been so long since he had been made love to. All his body wanted was to be touched in exactly the way Walter was touching it, and to be kissed just as he was now being kissed. He purred his contentment and wrapped his legs around the rocking hips. Stroking the muscular back with one hand he found the sensitive places on Walter's chest with the other and drew himself up as far as he could for even closer contact. He was just getting to the point where he needed to break away and gasp for more air when his mouth was uncovered, and the rocking stopped, and Walter's forehead came to rest on his shoulder. He noticed the lack of a mirroring hardness against his belly, and bit back an overwhelming urge to beg Walter not to stop. With a disappointment greater then he could ever express, he lowered his legs and tried to get his selfish body back under control while he slowly rubbed Walter's back. 

* * *

"Damn," Walter growled and hit the pillow next to Mulder's head. "What is wrong with me, anyway?" 

"Give it time, Walter, you're just stressed out," the man under him pleaded between quick, shallow breaths. 

He didn't want to give it time. He had expected to be able to raise the dead as soon as he had stopped pouring the Scotch down his throat. But it seemed that his cock wasn't sharing his optimism, even with a more than willing partner. He finally registered the fact that although he hadn't been able to get excited, Mulder was definitely not having the same problem. "I'm sorry, Fox," he sighed apologetically, "let me help you out here." 

"I'll be okay, just give me a minute." 

"Don't be a martyr." Walter gave the succulent mouth a kiss, then moved down to kneel between the long legs. "I'm not as talented in this department as you are, but maybe I'll improve with practice." Mulder may have had a response, but it was lost in the sound he made as Walter took the erect cock into his mouth. Mulder bent his knees and Walter inserted a finger into the tight opening, but it wasn't really the same knowing he had nothing to follow it up with. Still, it was quite obvious Mulder wasn't thrashing around and making all those sounds just to make him feel better, and he had to admit it was rather enjoyable watching the reactions to each touch and lick. He had been so concerned about his continual limp condition he hadn't given a thought to his sex-starved maniac of a lover who now seemed to be building up to an orgasm of monumental proportions. He raised his head just to watch the show for few seconds, but Mulder didn't appreciate it. 

"Don'tstopwhatareyoutryingtodotome?!" Mulder all but snarled at him. 

The exclamation was followed by a fit of panting, and Walter took pity as long fingers clutched at the bottom sheet and a plaintive whimper escaped from the trembling man. He decided sex really was quite silly if one was only an observer, but emotionally he felt that what he needed right now was to be able to get his lover off. This was one situation he had total control of, and he crouched back over with every intention of making Mulder see fireworks before he was done. With that in mind he performed feats with his teeth, tongue and fingers that elicited squeals he couldn't recall having heard from Mulder before. Mulder's fingers were frantic - as if speed-reading Braille on his head and shoulders - even before he got down to the heavy-duty sucking that brought his noisy lover to climax. He swallowed convulsively, and thought that at least Mulder wouldn't have a wet spot to sleep in tonight. He kept the spent cock in his mouth just to find out how it felt as it deflated, then released it with a few kisses and left it lying shriveled on the flat belly. 

"At least my mouth and hands still work," he told his stupefied lover. 

Mulder's unfocused gaze ended up in his general direction, and actually managed to follow his movements as Walter crawled up and gathered him into his arms. 

"Earth to Mulder, do you read me?" 

Mulder drooled happily on his chest and as a limp arm flopped across him he decided his cocksucking had been totally successful, and was intrigued by the amount of satisfaction he had gotten from it. 

* * *

Walter sat in the passenger seat of the Mercedes playing numerous variations of his upcoming conversation with Lauren out in his head, and not coming up with one that he was happy with. He looked over to the driver's seat. Although Mulder was still wearing a toned-down version of his smile from earlier that morning he at least had the sensitivity not to be burbling. The snow had missed this portion of Pennsylvania and they were making better time than he had planned for, but by now he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Despite desperately wanting to see his niece, the prospect of actually having to explain things had made Walter begin to hope that his surprise visit would find her away for the weekend. 

They drove up, and Mulder deposited him outside the dorm he'd indicated, promising to be back in an hour. He then took off, leaving Walter standing in the chilly air, although it didn't feel nearly as cold as his feet were getting. This was not a meeting he was looking forward to in the least, but he finally squared his shoulders, went in to the desk at the front and requested that Lauren Skinner be notified that she had a visitor waiting. 

He barely had time to take in his surroundings when his niece came bounding down the stairs, then stopped with a shocked look on her face. 

"Uncle Walter?" She came over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing here? Mom's going to be here soon." 

His heart took an express elevator to his feet. Now, on top of everything else, he had a time limit. "Honey, is there someplace we can talk?" He would have preferred not going to her room; Judy would probably go straight up there as soon as she arrived, and that was a scenario he wanted to miss. 

'"We could go to the cafeteria?" 

"No, that's probably not a good idea. Would you get your coat and take a walk with me?" He waited by the window, watching for the approach of his sister-in-law's car, and hoped she would take it into her head to do a bit of shopping in the area before showing up. Lauren returned and wrapped a knit scarf around his neck before taking his hand and leading him out the door. He wondered just how pitiful he looked right now to deserve that sort of attention. 

They walked in silence for a bit until she stopped them in the lee of an old oak. "Is this whole thing for real? Mom always lead us to believe we were sort of a family." 

Walter shook his head. "It's for real, all right. And we are family. We always will be. But I think your mother decided she wanted something more. You see, well, Lauren, there's somebody else." 

"Oh, Uncle Walter. I thought you loved mother." She sounded more disappointed in him than upset. 

"I do, honey, but not the way your dad did. I love somebody else that way. And I have for a long, long time." 

"Is it anyone I know?" 

"Well, it's someone you've heard of." He shoved his hands into his pockets and wished he had brought along some gloves. 

"Well, who? I thought you wanted to talk to me, but you're making me do alI the hard stuff. " 

He looked at her in disbelief. "It's Mulder( now you tell me if you think that was easy to say." 

"Mulder? Mulder's a guy." 

"How about that? Mulder is a guy." 

"That's gross. You and M-ulder? In bed together? Uncle(" She stepped back from him and leaned against the tree, hugging herself. 

"It's not gross, honey. You can have love for a lot of people. I love you, and Christopher, and your mother. It just so happens I love Mulder, too." 

"That doesn't mean you have to go to bed with him." 

Judy had said pretty much the same thing, and he wondered how much she had told her daughter, since _he_ hadn't mentioned anything about beds. "I know this isn't easy to understand...." 

"I understand it all right. There're plenty of people like you around here. I just never thought my own uncle was one." 

"Was one what? What is it you think I am?" 

"You sleep with men. What do you think you are?" 

This wasn't going at all well. He realized he had been deluding himself hoping for immediate acceptance from this young woman who was so much like her mother. "Lauren, I'm not going to go into my sex life with you, but I want you to get the word 'men' out of your head right now. We're not dealing with plurals." 

"You always talked so much about Mulder, you must love him more then you love us." 

"That is not true!" He took her by the shoulders, and wanted to shake her. "I love you, I'll always love you. From the minute your father told me you were coming into this world, I've loved you. Even if you told me to go away right now, I'd still love you. I can't stop that. You're...my little girl, Lauren, am I going to lose you, too?" He could see the tears forming in her eyes, and hoped he could keep them both from breaking down out on the commons. "Your mother and I might be going through a tough patch right now, but I want to be part of your life, like you're part of mine." 

She wrapped her arms around him as far as she could. "I don't want you to go." 

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here, just not at the house." He hugged her tightly. "Will you come visit me?" 

"At this Mulder's?" 

"I don't know where I'll be, but that's where I'm staying now." 

"That's what mom said." She paused for a moment. "Is everybody going to know?" 

"I'm not taking an ad out in the papers, if that's what you mean. I think this would be best left quiet, don't you?" 

"How long have you and...." 

"For a long time." 

"God, how dumb is mom, anyway?" 

"She's not dumb, honey. She's just been thinking along different lines." 

Lauren disengaged and glanced over towards her building. "I really should get back. Mom'll be...." 

"Lauren?" he asked quietly, praying she would be able to forgive the disturbance he was causing in her life. 

"I do love you, Unc," she finally admitted. "But I don't know about... You're going to have to give me some time to think. Now I get to face mom and listen to her version of this mess. You weren't stupid getting here first, you know." 

"Believe me, it wasn't planned." He had a horrific vision of Judy and Mulder squared off in the parking lot. 

They headed back to the dorm at a brisk walk, and as they neared the drive his head shot up in the direction of squealing tires and the blue Mercedes came barreling around the bend. He saw Mulder leap from the car, leaving the motor going, and come towards them at a dead run. 

"Hi Lauren it's great to meet you Walter showed me a photo of you and you're looking good with the new haircut Walter get in the car we've got to split Judy is right behind me." 

How Mulder managed that all with one breath, and after his sprint, Walter left to the gods to figure out. He turned to Lauren. "If you need to get hold of me, here's the number." He pulled out a card he had prepared and stuck it in her pocket. Lauren nodded, and he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before trotting over to the car. Mulder had the gears in drive before he even got his seat belt fastened, and he had just enough time to wave good-bye to his stunned niece before Mulder did his Mario Andretti imitation and they sped out of the campus. 

"You can slow down now," he informed Mulder, unclamping his hands from the dashboard. 

"I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a few things, and when I came out I noticed the plates of the car next to mine, and they rang a bell so I had Frohike run them. I don't think she saw me, though." 

"Fox, it's not going to be any huge secret I was there. Not after she talks to Lauren." 

"Oh, yeah. I guess not. But I didn't think it would be a very good idea for the two of you to just happen to run into each other here." 

"Good thinking. Would you mind a detour before we head home?" Lauren's remark about getting his side told before Judy's had him rearranging his plans. "I'd better talk to Christopher. Today." 

Mulder's glance asked if he felt up to it, but he waited for Walter to unfold the map without comment. 

* * *

The storm that had chased them all the way home finally caught up as they turned into the drive. Walter made a couple of trips with wood for the fireplace before he kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the couch. He regarded the tip of a big toe that was trying to escape from his sock through a small hole and wondered how far down the slippery slope of personal neglect he'd traveled since the paramedics had ripped his starched white shirt open at the Hoover building. That wouldn't do at all, he decided. He might be more casual now, but he still had his pride. 

He was thankful that he'd decided to drop in on Christopher that afternoon because it didn't look like anyone would be going anywhere tomorrow. Not that the visit had gone all that well; by comparison his talk with Lauren had been an enjoyable debriefing. He wasn't even sure how much his nephew had registered after Mulder's name had come out of his mouth - the boy's eyes had narrowed and he'd actually stuck a finger down his throat and made gagging noises. But at least Christopher hadn't actually come right out and said he hated him. He hoped that was a good sign. 

Mulder was in the kitchen warming up the dinner Mrs. Granger had left for them. Walter wondered what the housekeeper thought about his continual presence in the house. She seemed to take it in stride and he wished that his kids had been able to accept it with the same pragmatism, but that was probably asking too much. Especially from a couple of teenagers who were used to thinking of him as their uncle, and not as just another fallible human being. 

The empty grate accused him of laziness, so he got up and twisted newspapers for starters, then piled on some kindling and topped it all with a log that looked like it should last all evening. He touched it off with a match and watched the flames eat away at the paper. 

None of this changed who he was and he hoped Lauren and Christopher would be able to figure that out and find a little room in their hearts for the person he had chosen as a life partner. Now that he had time to think about it he was very sorry for any pain he that had caused Judy but couldn't dredge up any true feelings of guilt over any of it. It wasn't as if he had ever consciously led her on. He hoped Judy would forgive him someday, and wished her luck in finding her own soul-mate. 

When the big log finally caught, he put up the screen and headed for the kitchen. 

* * *

When Walter woke up it was to deep quiet; the only sounds were the tick-ticking of snow against the windowpane and the occasional rattle of the baseboard heaters. He gently worked his way out from under Mulder and shivered his way into the bathroom. After he completed his morning routine he crept back, pulled on a heavy robe, stuffed his feet into a pair of slippers, and went to a spare bedroom to grab his 12-string guitar before going downstairs. He wondered what it meant that throughout all his moves he'd kept his teddy bear and his Gibson with him. Mulder could probably give him a theory, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Heading down the stairs he just had to smile. He loved mornings like these; for some reason they always felt like Christmas. 

The long walk down the driveway to the mailbox didn't tempt him, even if it might contain the Sunday papers. That could wait at least until he felt like getting dressed. He made some coffee, carried it out to the living room and settled himself on the couch with his guitar, tuned the instrument and then started to noodle with the strings. It had been quite a while since he had felt like doing this, probably not since becoming an Assistant Director. The soft strumming lulled him as he watched the weather out the window. He closed his eyes and let his fingers find chord changes while he hummed. 

When he opened his eyes again he gave a start at the sight of Mulder fully dressed and sitting on a chair at the edge of the room, smiling at him. 

"You play the guitar!" Mulder observed, needlessly. 

"Uh-huh." 

"Want some breakfast?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Want me to make it?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Want to get dressed and go get the paper?" 

He hit a discord, then set the guitar aside. Mulder was up and about so quiet time was probably over anyway. "Okay, but if I'm not back in three days send out the sled team." 

"If you're not back in ten minutes I'll go looking for you myself," Mulder warned and left the room. 

He went up and got into some jeans and a flannel shirt, then back down to the hall closet and sorted through the stuff on the floor. With a sigh, he found the list they had started of things they'd need for living in this big place together and added 'boots' for himself. He put on an old pair of sneakers and an overcoat and opened the door to face the elements. The snow was only a little way up his calf, but the driveway wasn't always where he thought it should be and he made a number of inadvertent snow angels when he stumbled over hidden obstacles on his way to the gatehouse. 

On his return trip with the New York Times and the Washington Post he only fell once, but as he picked himself up he heard the unmistakable laughter of one Fox Mulder over the subtle hiss of snowfall, and saw the man standing in the open doorway. He tucked the papers under his arm and started packing an impressive snowball, at which point he heard the door slam. Having been trained at an early age not to throw these things in the house, he reluctantly left it on the steps when he went inside. 

When he entered the kitchen Mulder dropped into a defensive crouch. 

"A sitting target," Walter laughed, tossing the papers onto the table and displaying empty hands. "Now I wish I'd brought it in." 

"Yeah?" Mulder asked suspiciously. "And what's in your pockets?" 

"Nothing. Not even gloves." He turned them inside out as proof. 

Mulder still didn't look convinced, but had to turn his attention back to the pancakes on the griddle. "You're looking much too innocent," he accused over his shoulder. 

"And why shouldn't I be? I'm not the one who was laughing at some poor soul struggling though the arctic blasts, intent only on bringing the news of the world back to an isolated outpost by the frozen Potomac." 

"Nanook of Great Falls, your bravery and fortitude will go down in history." 

"And grace," Walter reminded, "don't forget grace." He draped his coat over a chair to dry out, then kicked off his sneakers and quietly scraped enough snow off them to suit his purpose. Creeping up behind his lover he dropped it down Mulder's neck, flattening it against Mulder's back with his palm. 

Mulder let out a shriek, one arm jerked up, and Walter raised his hand to deflect the last pancake as it flew over Mulder's shoulder. The half-cooked mess fell to the floor and Mulder skidded on it, dancing around trying to get rid of the snow. Walter managed to catch Mulder under the arms before he fell. 

He laced his fingers as he wrapped Mulder in a bear-hug from behind. "I'm gonna toss your butt out into the drifts," he growled, dragging the flailing man towards the back door. "We intrepid explorers don't take kindly to being laughed at." 

"Turn off the stove!" Mulder pleaded. "If I'm doomed to die by hypothermia, remember to turn off the stove. We can't let the house burn!" 

"Brave last words," he praised, righting the man on a clean patch of flooring. "You've touched my heart. Is breakfast ready yet?" 

"Yeah, and that one's yours," Mulder laughed, pointing to the batter colored smear. 

* * *

"Who was that?" Mulder asked, up to his elbows in suds. 

Walter pulled out a chair and plopped down at the kitchen table. "Who do you think it was?" he countered, raising one eyebrow in his best Scully impersonation. 

"Oh...shit." 

"May I ask how long she's known your location?" 

"Uhhhh...." 

"And may I ask why is it that she never saw fit to share that information with me?" 

"Uhhhhh...." 

"And, come to think of it, your three hairy friends...." 

"Okay! Okay...here's the deal. The guys didn't know until a couple months ago when I called them after I got put in this house. Scully and Doggett worked it out for themselves, and they dropped by with William about a week later. I asked them not to tell you unless you asked." 

"And by that time I had stopped asking," Walter admitted, sadly bowing his head. 

"I didn't want you to feel...obligated." 

Walter looked up from under his brows. "But it was all right if I felt...dumped." He watched Mulder's shoulders tense and knew he had made his point. 

"I didn't know how out you wanted to be, and this is going to be pretty out there. Once you moved in here with me you became a federally funded protected individual. Isn't it nice to see your tax dollars working for you?" 

Walter decided he didn't want to think about that right now. "I told Scully you were doing the dishes and that you'd call her back. We already discussed the weather - you're going to have to come up with something else." He had a pretty good idea what that something else would be. "I'll cover the mouthpiece when I listen in on the extension. You won't even know I'm there," he promised. 

"You wouldn't!" 

"Only joking. You, I could handle, but I'd hate like hell to have Scully catch me." 

Mulder laughed. He liked hearing Mulder laugh; it was warm and comfortable. He liked watching him, too, and it slowly dawned on him just how much he was liking watching him right now. He couldn't quite believe it, and touched himself, experimentally, to make sure he wasn't imagining what he thought he felt going on down there. Apparently the old worm wasn't dead; it had only been sleeping, a little too soundly for his tastes, but it was waking up now and requesting attention. He gave his cock a few congratulatory strokes and couldn't suppress a smug smile. Having no desire to keep his good fortune to himself, he tip-toed up behind Mulder who was inspecting a glass before putting it in the drainer. Blowing much longer than regulation length hair away from Mulder's neck, he nibbled along the sensitive skin to place a kiss behind the ear. 

"Walter," Mulder protested with a shiver, "at least wait until I'm finished." 

He stepped closer and nudged against the denim-clad ass. "Go ahead," he purred, "I wouldn't want to interrupt you." 

Something heavy clunked as it was dropped back into the sink, and Mulder reached for a dishtowel while pressing back and investigating the situation with his bottom. "Do I have a visitor?" 

"Yes," he whispered, "and if you let him in I'm sure he'll be so delighted he'll come back every chance he gets." He tugged the shirt out of Mulder's jeans and slid his hands up in front to rub Mulder's nipples. 

"Maybe I should tidy up a bit first," Mulder suggested, leaning back against his chest. 

"That's not necessary, and I don't think it would be polite to keep him waiting, not after he's been away for so long." Besides, he thought, it's not as if he hadn't been inside even during undesirable conditions. 

"Let's go upstairs and get naked," Mulder urged. 

Mulder had apparently had enough banter, so Walter gave the hardening nubs under his fingers a last tweak and pulled his hands out from under the warm shirt. "Let's, indeed." He followed up the steps but, unlike the sprinter ahead of him, he took them one at a time. 

When he entered the bedroom the covers had already been yanked to the foot of the bed and he was amused to see his lover stripping with lightning speed and leaving everything strewn around the floor. Before Walter had even finished unbuttoning his shirt he found the fly of his jeans unzipped by eager hands and his pants pooled at his feet. 

"I just want to hold it for a minute," Mulder explained, smiling at him and cradling his erection in his palm. 

The warmth and light pressure felt very nice, but after his enforced celibacy he had other things on his mind. The sight of the shaft that rose out of Mulder's dark pubic hair told him that Mulder was having a few naughty thoughts of his own. Walter decided the Ritual of Admiration for the Engorged Penis had been adequately observed, and with a whoop toppled them sideways onto the mattress. 

"Come back here," he growled, grabbing a passing ankle as his lover crawled the width of the bed to get to the night table. 

"In a second," Mulder promised, rummaging through the drawer. 

"You've stocked lube in the night table? You really are an optimist," he marveled. 

"I brought this from my apartment as a sort of, I don't know...talisman. I guess I shouldn't have," Mulder admitted, and his voice didn't sound all that happy. Walter wondered if he had said something to upset his lover until the man held up a greasy, crinkled tube with bits of paper and a pen stuck to it. "It oozed. It's a mess in here Everything's all slimy." 

"Well, don't clean it out now! I'll get another." 

"I think I've got enough on my hands...." 

"Don't even think about it," Walter warned. "Wash up, and I'll get another tube." So much for spontaneous sex, he grumbled to himself. 

They jostled in the bathroom as he searched the medicine cabinet while Mulder lathered his hands. 

"Don't tell me you're out, I thought you bought this stuff by the case." 

"Look under the sink." 

He scrabbled amongst the cleaning paraphernalia. "I see something else you get by the ... no, here it is." He lifted out the cardboard box and tore back the stapled flaps. "There's enough here for the whole Theban Band." Mulder paused in toweling off, staring down at him, and Walter grinned. "I bought a book about them once in the sixties. I thought they were a rock group." 

"I'll take that," Mulder laughed, snatching a tube, and brought the towel and a washcloth along with him back into the bedroom. 

Walter stood, amazed that after all the distractions he was still slightly distended. He stroked himself a couple of times, just to let his cock know he hadn't forgotten about it, and happily paraded back to the bed where Mulder was already waiting for him. 

"Nice," he smiled climbing in, and settled down to bestow a kiss while slowly caressing Mulder's minimally-haired chest with the tips of his fingers. Mulder obviously wasn't trying to win points for subtlety; his knees were bent and spread wide by the time they came up for air. "Is that a hint, lover?" he grinned. "Want me between your legs?" 

Mulder reached down and began pumping him gently. "Is there some place else you'd rather be?" 

He pretended to think about it while the hand became gradually more insistent. "No," he finally admitted, "I can't say that there is." 

"Then move, so I can get at you with both hands." 

Walter crawled around and knelt where he was directed, warming some gel between his palms as Mulder slipped a pillow under himself. Walter fondled Mulder expertly, feeling the shaft stiffen and expand, but couldn't take his eyes off his lover's face. He enjoyed watching Mulder whenever he was concentrating on getting him ready; Mulder's face always held a touch of amazement, a hint of smug possessiveness, and a whole lot of frankly lustful anticipation when Walter handled his cock. Walter thanked his stars that he was finally going to get to remind Mulder what it felt like to have a beast like his up inside. He sat back on his heels, disengaging from the intent hands. "Fox," he warned, hooking the long legs over his shoulders, "I don't think this is going to be one of our more romantic interludes." 

The laugh lines deepened around the hazel eyes. "Really?" 

Permission to fuck when ready had been given, and it was a relief to know that his lover hadn't been expecting anything different. "Next time, Fox, we'll make it slow and easy," he promised. 

It took some firm persuasion to get the ring of muscle to open wide enough to allow him passage. It wasn't from any lack of willingness from his partner, but the last months must have convinced this part of his lover's body that it wasn't going to have to grant access to anything of his size ever again. 

"How're you doing?" he asked, gently fighting the resistance as he pushed in deeper and was slowly accommodated. 

"Oh, fine," Mulder squeaked, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth partially open to pant. 

"You feel so good," he murmured, finishing his first inward journey, and bent to kiss the place over the pounding heart, "so hot and tight around me." He remained still, giving the slowly relaxing man a little time to loosen up a bit. "Tell me when you're ready, I can wait for you." This was one session he knew that neither of them was likely to forget, and he was determined to make the memory pleasurable for his lover. 

"I'm ready," Mulder told him with a deep breath, and reached up to touch his face, "take me flying." 

That was all he needed to hear; he straightened up and, grabbing the backs of the runner's thighs to brace himself, began the slow flexing of his hips that rubbed his entire length back and forth through the firm grip of the sphincter. Mulder's breathing synchronized with his pumping, a deep intake of air for the forward strokes, and a long moan each time he pulled back. The feeling was delicious; Walter picked up speed as every inch of his cock demanded to experience that place where the friction was the most intense again and again, and his lover let him know that he was definitely feeling something there, too. 

"Oh, god, Walter.... You don't know what you're doing to me...." 

He thought he knew perfectly well what he was doing, but if Mulder wanted to tell him about it he'd be more than happy to listen. He released his grip on the thighs and bent forward, sliding his arms up underneath the sweaty back to grip the shoulders, and felt the trembling legs clamp around his waist. As he increased his tempo to a double-time rocking motion his strokes became shorter, but he found it was a bit difficult to keep this up with Mulder hanging on his neck and trying to cut off his breathing by sucking on his mouth. He turned his head to the side and gasped while his lover clutched at his back and panted endearing obscenities in his ear. 

"Give it to me give me that big thick cock fuck my ass with it oh god you're so BIG...." 

He bent over farther to get Mulder back onto the mattress and delivered the long hard thrusts that always reduced Mulder to shouting his name with each impact. "Take it," he growled. He circled his hips, grinding against the pliant ass, gathering his strength for the grand finale. His lover couldn't keep still, or quiet, under him, and Mulder reached down with both hands to spread his own cheeks wider while demanding his asshole be used the way it was meant to be. He took a few deep breaths, then began pounding away at the eager ass, and Mulder urged him on with noises of approval. 

His cock finally decided it had been made up to for its long disuse, and as an ecstatic "Waaaaaalllllllttttt!!!" filled the air, he filled his lover. When he was able to pull out, he rolled off and lay panting on his back. He noticed that Mulder was breathing just as hard as he was, but seemed unusually alert compared to his usual post-sex stupor. 

Walter floated in a daze as he was cleaned off, and listened as a string of compliments were paid to his limp cock. Mulder dried him off and saw to himself before pulling up the covers, snuggling down next to him and guiding Walter's hand down to the crack of his ass. 

"Give me your finger," Mulder directed as he distributed kisses all over Walter's face, "it feels so empty when you're not inside." 

He certainly didn't mind, but hoped Mulder wasn't going to expect another round for a while. He soon found a bit of finger wiggling brought on some very happy Muldersounds and an enthusiastic exploration of his mouth. He pulled Mulder on top and set to work with both hands, giving his lover's bottom some long needed affectionate attention. 

Mulder drew his head back and grinned down at him. "You like my ass?" 

"I love your ass," he admitted. "I love you." 

"I love you, too. Aren't we both the mush-hounds?" 

Mulder's soft lips returned and Walter discovered that all this unbounded adoration was a very nice substitute for a nap. 

* * *

"Don't forget to call Scully," Walter reminded, drying off from his shower. 

"I will, I will," Mulder assured from the cabinet he was rearranging after Walter's earlier disruption of its contents. 

Walter rolled the towel and gave the bare ass a flick with it. "Make sure you do, or she'll think I didn't tell you she called." 

"Ow," Mulder complained, rubbing the spot. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were afraid of her." 

"She's a formidable lady. Can't let her think I'm keeping secrets from my better half." The look on Mulder's face made him realize what he had just said, and he tossed the towel over Mulder's head before retreating to the bedroom to get dressed. He had a feeling he'd better start looking for a place of his own before irreversible entropy set in and he found himself living here. Not that the idea of setting up housekeeping with his lover didn't appeal to him, but he'd be much happier with the situation if it was his house that it took place in. It was his duty to provide and protect. And he had always taken his duties very seriously. 

Pulling on a sweatshirt as he bounded down the stairs, he wondered if the real estate section of the paper had already been tossed; if not, it would give him something to peruse while Mulder was on the phone. 

* * *

Mulder hung up the phone with a smirk. Scully had been guardedly positive, but hadn't had a whole lot to say after he'd broken his news and babbled on for almost an hour. He realized that this might have been because she couldn't get a word in edgewise. He had a feeling he'd be getting a call from her very soon; after she had time to digest all this information she was sure to have some questions, and probably a pithy comment or two. At least wangling a blessing of sorts out of her hadn't been too difficult. After all, her greatest concern for him was that he should be happy. And right now he was very happy. 

He went downstairs to see what Walter had found to amuse himself with, and found him by a crackling fire studying the paper with pen in hand. Mulder plopped down on the couch, and his stomach dropped to his toes when he recognized what his lover was reading so intently. 

"What are you doing?" Mulder asked, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was. 

Walter looked up and gave him a smile before returning to the for sale or rent section. "Looking for a place." 

"I...I thought you were going to stay here. With me." 

"Oh, come on, I can't be sponging off you, Fox." 

"What?" Mulder was genuinely confused. "I thought...." 

"This is your house, I can't just move in with you." 

"Why not?" 

"It's your house - besides, what would people say?" 

"Who cares what people would say? If anyone asks, tell them anything you want. Tell them it's for convenience. Tell them it's for companionship. Tell them it's because you fucking love me...." 

"Why are you getting so upset?" Walter asked, tossing the paper to the floor. "I need a place, okay? If you want to move in with me, that's fine, that'd be great." 

"What? Are you saying it's all right for me to move in with you, but you can't stay here with me?" 

"I can stay with you, but I wouldn't be living here." 

"Do you realize you aren't making any sense at all?" 

"Yes I am. It's your house...." 

"You keep saying that. It's not my house. It's the government's house, they just make me live here." 

"Look, you've got everything like you want it, I respect that, but for me it would be like moving into a furnished apartment. I don't want you to feel like you have to change things just for me." 

"The only thing I care about having here is you. If you don't like the furniture we'll put it into storage and buy new stuff. Or move your old stuff in. I didn't pick any of this," Mulder indicated with an encompassing arm sweep, "so it is certainly not going to hurt my feelings." 

"That's not the point." 

"What is the point?" 

Walter shifted uncomfortably. "If we were going to live together, I'd like you to live with me. I'm sorry, but this would always be your house, and I'd always just be a...I don't know...a guest?" 

"But it would be all right for me to be the guest in your house, is that it?" 

"You wouldn't be a guest, Fox." 

Mulder sat and stewed for a moment. He had an urge to ask just exactly what he would be, but this conversation wasn't heading in any direction that was to his liking. "I'm a guest here, in case you'd missed that point. The gilded cage sort of guest. I have to live here. Is all this a smokescreen because you really don't want to live with me at all?" 

"I must not be explaining this very well - maybe we should talk about it later." 

"No, don't play games with me. I didn't have a lot of options about places to live. For a week I was strapped to a bed in a military complex with liquids getting pumped into me and a catheter showed up my dick and a lot of people would have been very happy to have left me there as a stationary weapon production plant. Cosmo, of all people...." 

"Who?" 

"Spender...you know." Mulder mimed taking a drag from a cigarette. 

"Cosmo?" 

"This set-up was his idea. And to tell you the truth I'm a lot happier about it so don't tell me...." 

"Cosmo Spender?" an incredulous Walter tried for clarification. 

"Cosmo Granville Bartholomew Spender. Kinda makes you want to give the guy a break, doesn't it?" 

"I thought he was dead." 

"Actually, it's hard to tell." 

Walter seemed to shake himself from his stupefaction and resume his train of thought. "This isn't a game, damn it, I'd marry you if I could. I'd love to build a life with you, I want us to grow old and crabby together. But right now I'm having a few problems figuring out what's mine anymore." 

"I'm yours," Mulder reminded. 

"I know," Walter sighed, pulling him into his arms, "that's about the only thing that's been holding me together." Walter looked around the room. "What if I wanted to put a moose head in the living room?" 

"No. No moose head. I wouldn't live anywhere with a moose head, and neither would you." 

"Mulder, don't get angry, but I wish you would take a few minutes and think about this. You've lived by yourself for a long time. Are you sure you want...." 

"I've spent too much time alone. I'm sure." He would have added that he hadn't been living alone all of that time by choice, but it seemed as though his lover was working himself up to a decision and he didn't want another distraction. 

"Why don't we just play it by ear for while? Sort of a trial period. Then if you decide reality isn't quite what you expected, and you don't want me permanently under foot, you can throw me out." 

"Throw you out?" The very idea was so ludicrous he started to laugh. "After all the weeks I've spent sitting in this room wanting you here so badly my stomach hurt? Now that I've got you here, if you really think I'd ever throw you out you're crazy." 

Walter sat very quietly. "Sounds like I've got a lot to make up for." 

A log split and fell in the grate, catching their attention as sparks flew up the chimney. "No, that's not what I was saying. We've spent years playing by other people's rules." And I won, he was tempted to add, but modesty forbade it. "Now it's time to start playing by our own." 

"What are the new rules, Fox?" 

"Let's make them up as we go along," he suggested. 

"Okay, but don't wait five years to tell me I broke one of them." 

He noticed a smile playing around the brown eyes, and appreciated the gesture as the real estate section was twisted and relegated, with an expert toss, to the flames. "Rule number one," Mulder informed his lover solemnly, "no moose heads." 

"If they're all going to be like that you'd better write them down." 

* * *

Walter sat at the kitchen table, the sleeves of his Black Watch flannel shirt rolled up his forearms, trying to save the nightstand drawer. "I hope this isn't a valuable antique or anything, because the bottom's going to have to be replaced. Lube may be good for a lot of things, but I don't think wood is one of them." 

"Or paper," Mulder grumbled, sorting through the contents that had been dumped out onto a folded grocery bag. 

"How did you amass all that junk in the short time you've been here?" 

Mulder peered up at him. "I brought all my stuff from the apartment. Everything but the furniture - all the drawers back at Hegal Place are empty." 

"You're not going to keep any of that slimy mess, are you?" 

"Only if I find...a-ha!" A small aluminum foil wrapped packet was waved for his appreciation. 

"I thought we finished the last of that." 

"Well...actually we didn't. I've been keeping this for a special occasion. I hope it hasn't gone stale." The foil was unwrapped and Mulder sniffed the contents. "Smells okay," Mulder grinned, producing some papers from his pocket. "Want a joint?" 

"If you're rolling," Walter grinned back. 

"Remember your first joint?" 

"Nope," Walter admitted, "do you?" 

"No." Mulder licked the paper and lit up. He sucked in the aromatic smoke and passed it over. 

"First one to say 'groovy' gets fucked," Walter challenged and Mulder choked on the smoke in his lungs when he laughed. 

## 

'Y'know, Scully's baby is really weird," Mulder volunteered as he contemplated the remains in the ashtray. 

Walter gave up on any pretense of cleaning up the drawer and pushed it away. "I've seen William. He's not that weird." 

"Scully was worried because almost every time she had him naked and lying flat he'd...move. He'd spin." Mulder flicked the end of a pencil and watched as it traveled in a circle. "Like that. But stop heading in the same direction. Now when she took him to her mom's, the kid would stop pointing in a different direction. And when she hauled the baby over to Doggett's for an evening of whoopie, she'd change him and William's head would end up pointing in a different direction again. But in each place the direction would be consistent. It was Doggett who figured it all out and used the kid to triangulate to this spot. I don't know what they were hoping to find once they pinpointed the coordinates, but they were pretty surprised when they ended up finding me." 

"So, he's a Mulder-compass? He's an X-File?" 

"I prefer to think of him as a Y-File. Anyway, that's probably why the aliens were so interested in him. William could lead them straight to me - or away from me. Whoever engineered the kid probably used my DNA as a marker, like a bloodhound getting the scent on a dirty sock." 

Walter blinked slowly. "Does he always orient to True Mulder?" 

"According to Scully, it's only when he's naked and lying on his back. I hope the kid grows out of it or he's going to have an unusual sex life." 

"He could phone you ahead of time and ask you to stay in one place for a little while," Walter suggested helpfully. 

"His head does sort of follow me around when we're in the same room, so Scully decided to keep him away from me. She's afraid he'll be like that scene in The Exorcist with the 360 head rotation. Rip his head right off." 

Walter decided he really didn't like the mental images that conjured up, and got up to look out the window instead. 

"Wanna go for a walk?" Mulder asked, joining him and admiring the way the snow reflected the moonlight, brightening up the trees out in the back. 

"No boots," Walter reminded him. 

"We won't stay out long, put your sneaks back on." Mulder picked up the newly-dry footwear from in front of the heater and handed them over, then went to the hall closet for their coats. 

"You just want to watch me fall down again," Walter's voice called after him. 

"No," he chastised when he returned, tossing Walter his overcoat, "it's pretty out there. I want to look at it." 

"You're pretty, I want to look at you." 

Mulder's brain ground to a halt, afraid it was being asked to make a decision. 

"But I'll look at you later. I'll wait and look at every part of you later." Walter took Mulder's arm, and directed him out the back. "Hope the door doesn't lock," Walter said cheerfully, his breath forming clouds in the cold, still air. 

"Look at the trees," Mulder marveled, pointing at the heavily laden branches that drooped towards the ground. 

"Should give 'em a shake, or they'll break off." 

Mulder was delighted by this showing of horticultural knowledge, and bounded off to save the nearest limb. 

"But don't stand under...." 

Walter's instructions were cut off as a load of snow tumbled from the branch Mulder attacked, dumping the cold stuff onto his head and down his collar. Mulder traced the source of laughter back to a dark form sitting in the middle of the lawn. He decided the trees could save themselves, or Mr. Granger could save them tomorrow. Anyway, pretty or not, it was damn cold out here. He gallumphed back towards the house, making a mess of the perfect blanket that covered the ground, and got hit in the ass by a snowball as he passed the now standing figure. "Run awayyyy," he yelled as he was chased to the back door. He grabbed the doorknob, but it wouldn't turn. "I thought you fixed this!" he exclaimed, rattling the knob and giving the door a kick. 

"I tried," Walter giggled. "But I don't know what gave you the idea I could. I can pick them but I don't know shit about fixing locks." 

"Front door. I didn't lock it, did you?" 

"Not that I know of. You didn't ask me to fix that." 

They peered at each other for a moment, then chorused: "Run awayyy," and took off around the house. 

Mulder was shivering by the time they made it up the front steps, but he took off his coat and shook it so as not to get snow indoors. Walter swung the door open, and they were both anointed by the seemingly mandatory fine spay as they entered the house. "I'm cold!" Mulder managed between chattering teeth, and kicked his shoes off. 

"Run a hot shower. I'll join you after I lock up and see to the fireplace." 

Mulder bolted up the stairs, and, remembering he was going to be getting a good looking at, decided it would probably be an excellent idea to shave. 

* * *

So this was going to be home, Walter thought, sliding the bolt and slipping the chain on the front door and setting the security alarm for the night. It wasn't so bad, he realized, as he went to the kitchen and turned off the lights, then checked the door there to see if Mulder had simply been too stoned to open it, since the man had a miserably low tolerance for anything but beer. Now that it had been made clear to Walter that Mulder had no choice but to live here, and he had no choice but to live with Mulder, he'd just have to find other ways to provide and protect. Walter found himself unexpectedly enjoying the feel of the wood floor beneath his bare feet as he crossed the living room and had the presence of mind to realize he was still a little stoned, so he made a very methodical check of the grate. He opened and closed the flue several times to be sure he had done it correctly. The clock on the mantle would have to go, he decided, as he turned off the last of the lights; it was too ugly for words. But it really was a very nice house. 

As he went up the stairs he ran his hand along the banister, trying to get a feel for the place. He entered the bedroom and stripped out of his damp jeans and tossed his shirt on a chair, then headed towards the noise of the shower. He wasn't feeling that cold any more, and picked up his razor for a quick shave before going to join his lover. 

When that was done, Walter opened the door to the stall, and a billow of steam escaped. "You're red as a lobster," he accused Mulder. "How hot are you running this?" He felt the water, and it was definitely uncomfortably warm. 

"It feels good. Come on in, you'll get used to it." 

Walter ignored the protests as he adjusted the taps to a more tolerable level before stepping inside. "If you don't cool down a bit, you'll get dizzy when you hit the air in the bathroom," he lectured, stepping in, taking Mulder by the arm and positioning him so the cooler spray hit the back of his neck. "Didn't your momma teach you nothin', boy?" 

"I don't want to talk about my momma. I don't want her here in the shower with us." 

They both jumped as the bathroom door slammed shut. 

"Old house," Walter commented, but Mulder's shoulders slumped and he only sighed. 

## 

Walter busied himself with getting the bed ready while Mulder played with his razor. Walter wasn't sure know how much shaving was actually going on, and he occasionally peeked into the bathroom to make sure his lover wasn't going to come out sporting a new Mohawk. Mulder, stoned, was a lot like a five-month-old kitten, and he could never tell what the man would do from one minute to the next. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a figure trying very hard to sneak up on him, so he kept his back turned, wishing Mulder would hurry up and surprise him. 

"Gotcha!" Mulder giggled, wrapping his arms around Walter's chest. 

Walter let himself be tumbled onto the bed. "And what are you going to do with me?" he grinned. 

"Look at you." 

That was a surprise, and he wasn't sure he liked this turn of events, but he could hardly say no, so he settled himself comfortably on his back. "Anything in particular you want to look at?" 

"Everything," Mulder informed him, "Starting with the most beautiful brown eyes in the whole world." 

Windows to the soul they might be, but he'd never really considered his eyes beautiful before. He smiled up into an intent face as Mulder's reverent fingers touched the corners of his eyes, smoothing the gathered laugh lines there. 

"You have such a wonderful mouth." Fingertips ran across his lips. "And when you smile, it makes me want to melt. I hope you'll always smile at me like that." 

Walter was kissed and, thankfully, Mulder didn't bother to tell him what he thought about his teeth and tongue. Or his nose. He was glad Mulder had skipped his nose. 

Hands traced the breadth of his shoulders then traveled slowly down his arms, and Mulder's expression told him exactly how much their dimensions were appreciated. Walter reached up to touch the curve of Mulder's jaw but his hand was captured and lips pressed against his palm, then each finger received devotional attention. 

"Your hands," Mulder sighed between kisses, "I love your hands." 

He wondered if he should speak, to pay a few heartfelt compliments of his own, but the mood that had been created made any verbal response almost inappropriate. His hand was allowed to tangle in Mulder's hair and stayed there as Mulder's head lowered and his nipples were attended to by an avid mouth and tongue. A slow fire was building in his groin, and although he was delighted to be functional again, he almost wished he could simply enjoy this adoration without his cock feeling like it had to do something about it. 

Mulder's cheek came to rest on Walter's chest and the hairs there were gently tugged and toyed with for a while. When Mulder's head came up there was something unusual about the look in Mulder's eyes, and it took a few seconds for Walter to recognize what it was: self-assurance. 

"You're mine now, Mr. Skinner, and you know I'm never going to let you go." 

His eyes widened. This blatant possessiveness was startling coming from Mulder. He finally had to smile, admitting to himself that not only was that statement very likely true, but he rather liked the sound of it. "Be careful what you wish for...." 

"I got it, I want it, I'm keeping it." 

It wouldn't be any news to inform Mulder who he belonged to - Walter had made sure Mulder was well aware of that some time ago. "Then you'd better continue with your inventory so we can have a list in case anything goes missing." 

Mulder let out a squeak and swung around to hover protectively over Walter's genitalia. "Nothing and nobody touches these but me. Well, you can," he added generously, "but I'll fight to the death anyone else who dares to get near them." 

"I'm beginning to think you only love me for my cock," he teased, and pouted a little. 

"That's not true," Mulder vowed, but attempted to cover the area with his hands as if to shield it from the words. "I'd love you even if you weren't so...impressive." Fingers wrapped around Walter's hardening organ and Mulder's head bent down to address it. "But I'm very pleased you are, aren't I, you gorgeous thing. Any time you want to be someplace snug and warm, you just let Walter and Mulder know and we'll make sure you're happy." 

Under the ministrations of tongue and lips, glistening liquid emerged from the tip of Walter's penis. "I thought you were just going to look." 

"I changed my mind," Mulder confided. "One cannot restrict the examination of such a magnificent male specimen such as yourself to visual inspection alone; one must utilize all the senses in order to fully appreciate...." 

He started to laugh. "Shut up and suck on it. And swing your butt up here so I can get that snug, warm place all ready. I'm in a honeymoon mood." The lube was only an arm's reach away. 

"You know," Mulder considered, taking a short break, "maybe I should get a tape measure...." 

"Don't bother, it would only scare you," he advised smugly, and got a combination of 'ha' and 'ooooh' as he inserted two fingers where Mulder liked them best. Reaching between the spread legs, his other hand closed around a disappointingly limp appendage. He didn't know why he had expected anything different; marijuana always made Mulder think he was hornier than hell, but slow to rise to the situation. "Time out," he called, and Mulder released him and looked back. "Head on the mattress, ass in the air," Walter instructed, trying to massage some life into the dangling cock, "we're not going anywhere until you show a little interest down here." 

"I'm ready," Mulder objected indignantly. "I can take you any hour of the day or night, what do you mean we're not going anywhere?" 

"Just think about what my hands are doing," Walter soothed, directing Mulder's attention away from any imagined criticism of his adequacy. "Think about how good it feels." 

"I don't know why grass does this to me." 

Walter grabbed a tissue and wiped his fingers with it, then settled back down on the mattress. "Come on up here, and bring the blankets. We'll just snuggle for a while." 

"But I want to...." 

"I know you do, and we will. Later." Walter took the sulking man into his arms and pulled the covers up around their shoulders. It was very nice to have later as an option - no rush to get up and drive home to be ready for work the next morning. He smiled and ruffled the dark hair. Now he only had to deal with a lover who was mortally insulted because Walter wouldn't fuck him before he was ready. It was warm and cozy under the bedclothes, and the body beneath his hands relaxed as Walter caressed it. He hummed a soft tune that he wasn't sure if he was remembering from ages ago or making up as he went along, and it didn't take long before Mulder yawned sleepily into his neck and gradually became a dead weight on his chest. The tent Walter's erection had made in the covers was gone now, and he felt too comfortable to want to move, even to turn off the bedside lamps. 

Walter took in the room around him. It did have possibilities once the wallpaper was steamed off. The past was something he couldn't change, and the future was something that would unfold as it came. All he had to work with was each present moment but, if he did it correctly, there was a chance he could unravel the tangle of his old and new relationships and reunite them into an odd little family. His and Mulder's lifelines had been fused together so long ago there was no way of separating them, to cut one was to cut them both, but there were three loose ends. One he had little hope for, he'd be grateful if it simply didn't try to wrap itself around his neck and strangle him, but the other two.... He'd do what he could, but they were in the future, and he had the present in his arms. 

## 

Mulder woke to Mother Nature's insistent prodding and wondered why the lights were still on, then realized, with a twinge of guilt, that he had gotten Walter all hot and bothered and promptly fallen asleep on him. He wormed his way out of the relaxed embrace, touching briefly the red splotches that marked where he had rested on the shoulder and chest, and trying not to disturb the slumbering figure. When he got out of bed he quickly pulled the covers back up and stood for as long as he could, watching Walter's brow crease and the arm he had displaced move in search of something. The cold and another urge got to him and he had to hurry into the bathroom. 

When he emerged the bed was deserted, but light spilled out from the open door of the bathroom across the hall. Apparently he had taken longer than Walter was able to wait. He picked up the lube from the stand, squeezed some out onto his finger and began applying it to himself, just in case. He'd be more than happy to walk around greased up for the rest of his life - that way any time Walter wanted him he'd only have to bend over and.... He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of a throat being cleared, and he swung around to find Walter leaning in the doorway. 

"I see you've woken up." 

Mulder looked down at himself and was vaguely surprised to find an erection there. 

"Started without me, hmmm?" 

Mulder grabbed a tissue and wiped at his finger as Walter approached with 'that' look on his face and a hard-on that seemed oblivious to the cool air of the bedroom. Mulder's head was held it in place by two hands while a demanding tongue possessed his mouth. 

"Now that you're ready, I'm going to take you long and slow. And you're going to make a little night music for me," Walter predicted. 

Mulder climbed onto the mattress and followed the urgings of the large hands into the one position he wasn't all that fond of. He had no options this way, on his side and propping their combined weight with arm and knee. He couldn't be much of an active participant, only lie there and be made love to. That wasn't a bad thing in itself, but if Walter was going engage in one of his Zen-fucks he knew he'd better get himself comfortable because he was going to have that big cock inside him for a very long time. 

Pulling his knee up as far as he could, he felt the thick cockhead being positioned and reached down to fondle himself to ease the discomfort of a long penetration. That was the most difficult part, being stretched to accommodate the first stroke in, but the low 'mmmmmmmmm' exhaled behind him let him know Walter found it more than acceptable. Mulder's breathing calmed, and he unclenched his eyes as he relaxed to the feeling of the back of his neck being nibbled, his nipples contracting under the flat of a broad hand. 

The pressure of Walter's chest on his back pushed Mulder's upper body to the mattress, and when the movement began he braced with his arm to keep from being flattened as his lover pushed up behind him and, ever so slowly, started flexing his hips. He shifted to allow just a little more access to his body, and it was immediately taken advantage of. Each time the tip of Walter's cock rubbed past one particular spot his body jerked involuntarily, which always annoyed him because he thought it made him look like an electroshock patient, but the feeling was worth it. Walter's forehead came to rest at the base of his neck, the breath on his back took on a deep, regular cadence, and he could envision the look of concentration that would be on his lover's face. Every place on his body that wandering hands could reach was given its own special caress, but that wasn't his main focus; that wasn't where the fire was. 

Walter was his now, and in return the man was making sure there wasn't a shadow of doubt that Mulder's ass belonged to him. Mulder's sphincter pounded with his heartbeat and burned with the constant friction, and he couldn't stop the long, drawn-out moans of pleasure as he was rocked in a slow tempo. He loved it when Walter was inside him, couldn't get enough of it, and knowing that that was where his lover wanted to be made it even better. He strained to give the sliding cock a few constrictions, feeling he had to make it good, he had to let Walter know he wanted him. When his body began to shake and a definite whimper managed to escape him, Walter's thrusting stopped. With a pull from Walter they rolled back fully onto their sides. Mulder brought his knees up farther and was encircled by two strong arms that pulled him back against Walter's sweaty, broad chest, and he trembled as he was eased down farther on the hard column. Slightly parted lips pressed against Mulder's neck, and he knew he was just being given a short rest. 

"Can you get up on your knees?" Walter asked, and the hair that was stuck to Mulder's sweaty face was gently brushed back. 

Mulder nodded. He could do anything for this man. He straightened his legs and as they toppled forward he could tell Walter was trying to keep his weight off his back. Mulder had no choice but to match his lover's movement so they could get to their knees at the same time. He rested his head in his arms and wondered how much more of this he could take before he'd have to bite his arm to keep from screaming and breaking the mood. 

"We're going to rock n' roll, lover," he was informed, and with the first hard thrust he knew he wouldn't have to bite himself after all. He took the hard pounding relatively quietly, for as long as he could, until he burst into flame and his lover's name was all that he could think of and he had to...scream. 

* * *

Walter rolled up his sleeve trying to figure out exactly when he had lost control of this entire situation. He had a niggling feeling it had been the instant the words "I love you" had escaped from his lips. Now a tourniquet was being applied to his arm, after which he was thumped, and stuck, and then he was given a piece of cotton to hold in his bent elbow. All of this was done with the same cheerful efficiency that had gotten him weighed and his blood pressure checked. 

"The doctor will be in to see you in a moment, Mr. Skinner," he was told with a bright smile when he started to get off the examination table. He wondered why he had to see a doctor; the blood had already been taken and he thought he was finished. It wasn't enough that Mulder had found his medication and quizzed Scully about dosages and side effects and any other damn thing that got into his head, but his meddling lover had immediately made an appointment for Walter to see a new doctor. The same one Mulder now went to. "The best," Mulder had assured. And Walter was quite sure that the people who now watched over Mulder were quite interested in the man's continued health and well being, so this physician probably was very respected in his field. Either that or he was collecting samples for nefarious purposes, but Walter preferred not to dwell on that possibility. 

The door opened and a rather portly, youthful looking man in his late fifties with, 'guess what, I'm a doctor' written all over him, entered. 

"Mr. Skinner," the man smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Doctor Plummer." 

"Walter," he grinned automatically, and shook the man's hand. He'd been Mr. Skinnered enough for one day already. 

"Walter," the doctor agreed, sitting on a stool and looking at his clipboard. "Mulder has already told me that you would like to change physicians." 

"He did?" 

"Was he mistaken?" There was a genuine look of disappointment in the cow-like brown eyes. 

"No, no, that's fine. He's right, it'd probably be better that way." 

"Now, I've already told him that my practice is very full, but he is a very persuasive individual." 

"Tell me about it." 

The doctor laughed. "Yes, well, if you'd leave the number of your current doctor with my receptionist we can have your records transferred. When's the last time you had a complete physical?" 

"Well, uh...with the Bureau they require...." 

Walter trailed off uncertainly, but the doctor took it in his stride. 

"You really should think about setting up an appointment. Once a man reaches fifty he should have himself checked regularly." 

"Mulder's probably doing that now," he mumbled. 

"I wouldn't be surprised." 

"Well," the clipboard was flipped shut and he was smiled at again, "we'll have the results by tomorrow and I can evaluate your current regime. And after your physical we can set about putting you back in balance." 

Walter got down from the table, tossed the cotton ball into the trash, and rolled down his sleeve. 

"I've enjoyed meeting you, Walter. I've heard quite a bit about you over the past couple of months." Walter stood open-mouthed as the doctor left the room. "Not by name until today, of course," floated back over the retreating shoulder. 

"Of course," he muttered, buttoning his cuff. 

## 

"What you need is something to cheer you up," Mulder told him sagely as they crossed the parking lot. 

"And you don't think the prospect of a physical in three weeks is enough to do that, huh?" 

"Don't be so grumpy. I know you, you never go near a doctor until you don't have a choice." 

"I happen to like it that way." 

"Well, after this is over you won't have to think about it for a whole year. So stop frowning, it's not the end of the world. I thought," Mulder told him while unlocking the Mercedes, "since we're already in town, you might enjoy looking for a new car." 

Walter considered that for a moment and decided that he really should return the rental. "I think I'd like another Jag." 

"There're two lots on our way home. Then you can get that Ford out of the driveway, it's ruining our image." 

"The Jaguar is a Ford. You're just a snob," he accused. 

"You're right, I only want the very best." 

Walter accepted the compliment. 

## 

The car showroom was staffed by personnel who were so bored they were happy to talk to anybody, even if they appeared to be 'only looking'. A two-door convertible had already caught Walter's eye; now he only had to figure out what color he wanted it in. He leaned back against a neighboring car and tried to picture Mulder in the passenger seat. Definitely not robin's egg blue, he decided. 

"What colors...?" He didn't get a chance to finish his question before a color-chip book was placed deferentially in his hands by one of the hovering sales associates. He noticed Mulder striding purposefully towards him, followed by someone who was probably trying to sell him something. Walter opened the car door and gestured for Mulder to sit inside. "I want to see how you'll look in it," Walter grinned. 

"You have the heart of an interior decorator," Mulder smirked at him, and settled into the leather seat. 

"I have the soul of an artist," Walter corrected. The champagne color of the floor model disappointed him as Mulder's dark hair made a rather odd contribution to the monochromatic color scheme. He didn't want white, and he didn't like the yellow at all. "What do you think?" he asked, handing the color book over. Mulder usually looked good in red, but he knew red Jags were an invitation to be stopped by cops for speeding, even when they were parked. 

"I like the black, or the dark blue." 

"Do you have a blue one I can sit him in?" The salesman seemed a bit baffled, but went off to check the stock. "You look very nice in dark blue," he whispered, leaning in over the window stripping to see how close he could get before his lover became nervous. 

"I know," Mulder smiled, and refused to appear nervous in the slightest. 

"Sir? We have this model in the dark blue. It will be brought round in a few minutes. Would you care for a cup of coffee?" 

"No, thanks." He turned, pulling the door open, and Mulder swung about to sit sideways on the seat. "Enough room for those long legs?" 

"Not much headroom. One bump and there'll be two holes in the roof." 

"The seats can be lowered by pressing this switch," one of the salesmen offered helpfully. "And this moves the seats back farther." 

"Thank you," Walter told the anxious man, and was saved from a complete explanation of the dashboard by the appearance of a freshly washed, dark blue, dream machine in front of the plate glass windows. The top was up, but it was still beautiful. "I like it." He was drawn out through the showroom doors as if by a magnet, with Mulder close on his heels. 

"You are going to test drive it, aren't you?" 

## 

"I like it," Walter repeated, settling into the driver's seat of the idling vehicle. He waited for the salesman to attach a license plate, and Mulder to get in beside him. They made a few near disastrous mistakes with the seat controls, but finally got as comfortable as they were going to, and he released the lever over the windshield and pressed the button to take the top down. "Be back in a few," he grinned at the car dealer, and shifted into first. 

"How much is this thing?" Mulder asked, but Walter didn't care. He just wanted to drive. 

"What do I make the check out for?" he asked the salesman on his return, taking out his checkbook. 

"Sir, we don't accept personal checks, only cashier's checks...." 

Walter thought for a moment. "I can write you the check and when it clears you can deliver my car. Will that work?" 

"I...I'll have to ask the manager...." 

"You do that," he agreed, and stared back out the window to where Mulder was ferreting out answers to the questions Walter couldn't answer about all the dials and buttons that hadn't been on his old car. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but my manager has requested permission to make a call to your bank...?" 

He tore off a check and handed it over. "All the information's right there." 

"Thank you ... Mr. Skinner." 

"You're very welcome." Walter wondered how long all this would take; he didn't relish the idea of riding home in rush hour traffic. He glanced down at his checkbook and realized he was going to have to do something about the printed address and phone number. 

"Mr. Skinner," a new voice greeted him, fairly unctuously, and he turned to face the man who he guessed was the manager, "there will be absolutely no problem in accepting your personal check. Please, come into my office and we'll...." 

"I'd like to get out of here before it's bumper to bumper. How about if I just make this out now," he said, retrieving his check, "and you can have the car delivered tomorrow, and I'll sign the paperwork then." 

"It's the dark blue convertible with the tall, dark haired man next to it?" 

"The tall man's already been taken care of. He came separately." Walter smiled wolfishly, and scratched out his old address on the check, replacing it with Mulder's. "Now, what do I make the check out for?" 

* * *

Mulder belted the sash of his robe and tried not to stumble out of his slippers as he made his groggy way down the stairs. There were breakfast smells in the air, and he hoped there wouldn't be a huge mess to clean up before Mrs. Granger came over. His first sight in the kitchen was Walter, sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. He slowly turned his head and there was Mrs. Granger in mid-chat, cooking up breakfast for an army. 

"What time is it?" he croaked, trying to focus his eyes on the clock. 

"Ten o'clock, sleepy-head," Walter grinned. "Sit down. I'll pour you some coffee." 

"I feel like I've been hit by a train." 

"Must have been the midnight special." Walter gave him a wink and placed a cup in front of him. 

"You're just in time for a nice breakfast, Mr. Mulder. Wasn't that a pretty snow we had? After you called, my Harry and me just stayed all nice and cozy in the cottage and watched it fall. So pretty." 

"And cold," Mulder agreed, remembering getting locked out. He'd have to call someone in to get that door fixed. 

"Cold outside, but with a nice fire in the fireplace and some good hearty stew you'd never notice." Mrs. Granger told Mulder, while setting a plate each in front of them. She stacked the cookware in the sink for later, then bade them an enjoyable meal before leaving for parts of the house unknown. 

"I overslept," Mulder yawned, stating the obvious. 

"You're allowed," Walter granted while attacking the huge assemblage in front of him. 

"I thought I heard the phone ring earlier." 

"Guess who called?" Walter grinned. 

"Dr. Plummer?" 

Walter waved that answer away. "No, your very own Guardian Angel Frohike. Apparently it has come to his attention that there is dissatisfaction with the system he designed. The three of them are coming over this afternoon to check on it." 

* * *

"See? There is absolutely nothing wrong with it," Frohike proclaimed as he stepped through the front doorway completely unsprayed. 

"Let me try that," Langly said, shouldering his way past Byers into the house and promptly getting himself misted. 

All eyes were now on Frohike. "You didn't activate it. How do you expect it to work if you don't activate it?" he demanded, taking a handful of Langly's T-shirt and pulling him back outside. 

"Shall we?" Walter asked, gesturing after them. 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Mulder grinned at him and they followed for the next demonstration. 

"You have to push the doorbell," the short man explained. "Each person has to press the doorbell." 

"It's fingerprints! You're reading the prints!" Langly crowed happily after pushing the doorbell and stepping inside, unwetted. 

"Nope. Not prints." Frohike pursed his lips and shook his head. 

Byers touched the spongy palm sized doorbell. "It's wet," he complained. 

"Of course it's wet. It's permeated with the same stuff you get sprayed with. Eau de Mulder cologne." 

"It's not cologne," Langly sneered with distaste. "It's toilet water." 

"Explain to me why this is necessary," Walter requested, hands on hips. Considering the nature of his relationship with Mulder, Walter figured he was not the least concerned about any Mulder by-products, but he was quite sure he could live happily ever after without being sprayed as though he were territory being marked. 

"It's the shape-shifters you have to worry about. So photo recognition or prints are useless - they could look like anyone. This way you can choose to either stick your hand in this stuff or get it sprayed in your face, but you're going to have to prove it's not going to dissolve you one way or the other. Which would you choose?" 

"And the security camera?" Walter pointed to the small protuberance on the exterior of the doorframe. 

"That's activated when the button is pushed and then lets that one person through without spraying." 

"I, for one, am now de-mistified," Mulder deadpanned. 

"You couldn't have let us in on this earlier?" Byers demanded as they each took their turn at the doorbell before entering the house. 

"There's one on the back door, too," Mulder informed Walter as they headed for the living room. "The only person that regularly comes in that way is Mrs. Granger. And I don't think she's ever been sprayed." 

"Maybe she's just too polite to mention it," Walter offered. 

"Yeah, right," Mulder snorted, sarcastically. 

"Who's for beer? We have a depot full," Walter offered. After a hand count, which included everyone, he headed for the kitchen. 

Byers thoughtfully watched the departing man and turned to Mulder. "He's looking pretty good. More relaxed." 

Mulder shrugged slightly. "Appearances can be deceiving. The family thing is really getting to him, but he tries to keep things to himself." He gave Byers a look, as if saying 'like always'. 

"Yeah," Byers agreed, shaking his head, "some things don't change. It'd be better for him to just share it." 

"It could be that he's ahead of us, into the new cycle. Maybe the 90s kinda guy thing is over." Mulder levered himself off the sofa and stretched slightly. "Guess I'd better help Walter. He's not the world's best bottle juggler. Be right back." 

Byers is right, Mulder thought as he pushed open the door, Walter's been keeping so much locked inside since he got here - he won't share most of it, even with me. But he's damn well going to have to learn to. 

As Mulder entered the kitchen he saw Walter leaning against the wall, face turned away. He wondered briefly why Walter was just standing there, motionless; then Walter's body slumped, and he rushed forward to help, almost knocking over a table in the process. As he reached him he noticed that Walter's face was filmed with sweat and his eyes were tightly closed as if in pain; one hand was pressed against his chest. 

"Walter?" Mulder gripped the other man's arm. 

"Chest...." Walter managed to get out between shallow breaths. When the brown eyes opened Mulder could read the fear in them. 

Oh, god, no...not his heart, was all Mulder could think. He slid one of Walter's arms over his shoulder, then slipped his arm around Walter's waist, trying to support him. "Byers! Langly! Frohike!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He heard the sound of rushing footsteps, but couldn't afford to turn away long enough to look. 

There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly the Gunmen were there. "I think he's having a heart attack," Mulder said, more rationally than he felt. "Somebody call an ambulance! Hurry!" He heard someone fumbling with the wall phone. 

"Help me get him into the living room." He gestured with a nod of his head back the way they had all come. "To the couch." Byers immediately moved to the other side of Walter and slid a supportive arm around Walter's waist, taking some of the weight off Mulder's shoulders. "Come on, Walter," Mulder urged softly, "let's get you on that couch and you can stretch out." 

Walter nodded his understanding and his two friends helped him into the room and onto the couch, Frohike bringing up the rear. 

"Better?" Mulder asked softly. There was no reply. Mulder felt a tight knot of icy terror begin coiling in his stomach. 

Mulder grabbed a chair and pulled it over beside the couch. Sitting down on the edge, he leaned forward and clasped one of the large hands with both of his. "It'll be all right, Walter." He forced a smile. "After all, I'm here now." He watched the pain-filled eyes flutter shut, listened to the labored breathing, and felt totally helpless. Reaching out with one trembling hand, he gently stroked the sweaty, broad forehead. He felt a hand grip his shoulder, and he looked up into Frohike's oddly compassionate face. In the ensuing silence, he waited, counting off the endless minutes until help arrived. 

Why now? echoed endlessly through Mulder's mind. Finally, now, when he's all mine... Is this a punishment? 

After what seemed like hours Langly had the front door open and a pair of very fast moving men entered. Their uniforms and the equipment easily identified them as paramedics. Mulder found himself gently but firmly detached from his death-like grip on Walter and moved out of the way. The Gunmen joined him in the corner. 

"Are you experiencing any pain?" one of the medics asked Walter, while the other started performing the examination. 

"Yes," Walter managed to get out. "My chest. But it's not so bad now." 

"Anything else?" 

"Right arm. Numb." 

The two paramedics proceeded with their task efficiently, speaking in low tones as they exchanged information. After only a few minutes they were finished, and as they began packing up their instruments they silently traded knowing glances. Mulder immediately read the worst in their exchange, and a sound of distress escaped his throat that must have reached the ears of the medics, because one of them approached to offer reassurance. "His readings seem stable enough, so we can move him. But we need to get him to the hospital immediately." 

"Where?" Frohike asked. 

"INOVA Fairfax," the medic supplied without hesitation. "State of the art cardiac unit." 

Frohike looked at Mulder in inquiry and received a nod of agreement. "Then INOVA it is." 

The medic turned to his partner. "George, let's get him on the stretcher now." 

The man identified as George quickly wheeled in the gurney from the hall, and the two of them carefully lifted Walter onto it. 

"Do I have to go out on this?" Walter asked weakly. 

"I'm afraid so, sir." The young man smiled reassuringly as he covered Walter with a light blanket and strapped him down for safety. "It's the rules." 

Mulder moved forward and leaned down to whisper, "And I know how you feel about following the rules, Sir." 

Walter managed a small smile. "Always know my weak spots, don't you, Fox." 

Mulder nodded and touched him lightly on one shoulder, then looked over at the paramedic. "May I ride along with him?" 

"All right. But you'll have to ride up front with the driver." 

He nodded as the entourage moved outside. At this point Mulder would have agreed to ride on the hood. Byers tried to reassure him that everything was going to be fine. Mulder desperately hoped he was right. 

Getting down to the ambulance, the paramedics loaded Walter into the back. Mulder clambered into the passenger's seat, and a moment later Byers popped his head in the window. "We'll follow. See you at the hospital." His arm was given a reassuringly hard squeeze, and Byers was gone. 

## 

Waiting, endless waiting. Mulder glanced at the clock for what seemed the hundredth time and was startled to find only two minutes had passed since his last check. He got to his feet and started pacing again. His three friends were seated in standard issue waiting room chairs, talking quietly to each other, and part of him wondered how they could just sit there patiently and wait. He absently rubbed at his forehead with an unsteady hand, trying to ease the dull throbbing which pushed relentlessly at the back of his eyes. His shoulders felt as if they had been cast in concrete and the tight knot in his stomach was growing steadily worse. He wished Scully were there. If she had been he'd at least have been kept updated. 

"Mulder, come on, man," Frohike said gently, "sit down. Wearing a groove in the floor won't help." 

"It's been so long." Mulder glanced at the wall clock again. "Almost half an hour." He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. 

"He's going to be okay, Mulder," Byers said. "The people here know what to do." 

Mulder wanted to believe it, but a small voice whispering of death kept echoing in his head. "I know...." The vivid image of Walter slumping against the wall reared unbidden before his inner eye and the knot in his belly suddenly contracted with a sickening squeeze. Turning, he ran out of the room. Outside the waiting area he found the sign for the restrooms and dashed for the appropriate door. 

He made it to the toilet just in time. When it seemed there was nothing left in his stomach, he knelt there just a little longer until he felt he could get up without his knees giving way. His muscles ached from the violent contractions and his head pounded abominably. Part of him wished he hadn't eaten lunch that day. Finally he managed to get to his feet and he flushed the toilet. He opened the stall door and was not surprised to find Byers waiting for him. 

"Mulder?" 

"I'll be okay," he said, more to reassure Byers than actually believing it himself. He moved slowly to the sink and let the cold water run for a minute before leaning down to splash his sweaty face. When he straightened, Byers wordlessly handed him a couple of paper towels. As he dried his face and hands he looked into the mirror and his distraught visage peered back at him. His dispassionate analysis concluded he looked like bloody hell. Then his focus shifted and his and Byers' gazes locked. "What if he dies, John?" he choked out, feeling as if his whole world were crumbling around him. "What'll I do?" 

Before Byers could recover from being called by his first name the outer door opened, and a stranger walked in, destroying their fragile bubble of privacy. Ignoring them completely, the man disappeared into a stall. "Come on, let's get back," Mulder said softly, tossing the used towels into the disposal chute. 

The two men walked back silently to the waiting room where Frohike greeted their return without comment, although his eyes betrayed his concern. 

A few minutes later a doctor entered the room. "Are you with Mr. Skinner?" she asked brusquely, consulting her clipboard. 

The four of them crowded forward. "Yeah, we're Walter's friends," Frohike offered. 

"How is he, Doctor?" Mulder asked simultaneously. 

"We're monitoring him, but he seems in a stable condition." She suddenly focused on Mulder's face. "Although I'm not sure if we don't have the wrong man under observation. Are you all right?" 

Mulder waved the question away as superfluous. "I'm fine. It's Walter we want to know about." 

"Then why don't you go in and see him for a few minutes. You'll find him in cubicle #2." She gestured towards the far door. "First curtain on your left. If you need me, just ask for Dr. Howard." 

When the doctor had left, Frohike pushed Mulder towards the door. "You go see him alone for a few minutes. We'll join you later." 

Mulder, grateful for his thoughtfulness, managed a brief smile. "Thanks," he got out before hurrying from the room. 

## 

Byers let out his breath with Mulder's departure. He sat down heavily in one of the waiting room chairs, leaned forward with elbows on knees, and stared at the tiled floor. Frohike's shoes moved into his line of vision and he looked up. 

"What's wrong, Byers? You know Walter'll beat this." 

He sighed and shook his head. "I know this sounds crazy, but I think I'm more worried about Mulder." 

"Mulder will be fine. They'll both be fine. Didn't you see what the doc was wearing under her white coat?" 

"Military," Langly grumbled. 

"They'll be taken care of. Mulder's too valuable to lose and so, by extension, is Walter. It's all covered." 

"Never thought you'd trust the military," Langly said grumpily. "I certainly don't." 

"When something is in their own best interests, they're hard to beat. Anyway, I'm sure Mulder will check him for implants when they get home." 

The three men snickered. 

* * *

Mulder paused briefly in front of cubicle #2, trying to get his trembling body under control. Finally realizing it was a lost cause, he took a couple of deep breaths and pushed past the curtains to enter the small space. Walter lay on a diagnostic table, eyes closed, looking both small and helpless. The image was all wrong, he realized with a terrible sinking feeling; it was Walter who was the strong one, always seeming somehow larger than life, filling a room with his presence. Of all people, he should not be like this. A sheet had been pulled halfway up Walter's bare chest, where the electrodes had been attached. The sight of those things on his lover's body produced a sharp wave of revulsion; he realized they were necessary, but he found himself hating them anyway. Monitoring equipment was everywhere, and the soft bleeping from one of the machines sounded off Walter's reassuringly steady heartbeat. From the next cubicle he could hear the murmur of voices and the sound of someone crying. Overcoming a strange reluctance to move, Mulder forced himself to take another step into the room. 

"Walter?" he said softly. 

Brown eyes opened and relief filled them. "Fox." A large hand was extended and Mulder stepped forward to grasp it tightly. 

"You scared the shit out of us," Mulder murmured. "How are you feeling now?' 

The expression in Walter's eyes changed, and his hand tightened painfully around Mulder's fingers. "Scared." He swallowed before continuing. "I've never been this piss scared in my life." 

Mulder leaned against the edge of the table, trying to get as close as possible. "I know." With his free hand he gently touched Walter's cheek. "Neither have I." He continued in a more factual tone. "We just talked to the doctor and she said that you're stable." He forced a small smile. "At least physically." 

Walter's eyes widened slightly, and then a mirroring twist of the lips tugged briefly at the corners of his mouth. "Your jokes are terrible." 

"So I've been told," Mulder conceded levelly. He suddenly needed to show what he felt and damn anyone if they came in. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against the other man's. "Love you. And everything's going to be all right." 

"Except life doesn't always go as planned." 

A tight band contracted around Mulder's heart, but before he could respond a familiar voice interrupted. 

"Hey, anybody home?" 

Mulder straightened before saying, "Come on in." 

"Hi," Frohike said, poking his head in through the curtains. He grinned broadly. "Come on in, guys. It's safe." 

Byers and Langly crammed themselves in, and the limited space suddenly became even more so. They all stared at Walter for a long moment. "How are you feeling?" Byers asked finally. 

"Better," Walter answered. "A lot better. I'm just really...well, tired. Like I've just run an obstacle course." 

"Don't worry 'bout that," Frohike offered. "I'm sure all the lovely doctors and nurses here will make sure you get your beauty rest." 

"I thought you were supposed to cheer me up?" Walter commented, smiling slightly. 

At that moment, Dr. Howard entered the room followed by a large male orderly. There was now barely room in the small cubicle to turn. "I hope you gentlemen had a satisfactory visit, but I'm afraid it's time to go. Mr. Skinner is going to be moved upstairs now." 

"I have to stay overnight?" Walter sounded horrified. 

The doctor looked at him oddly before replying. "Definitely, Mr. Skinner. For observation and some more tests. Now gentlemen, I must ask you to leave. Everything is quite under control here and you can all visit him in the morning." 

Mulder confronted the doctor. "He is going to be all right?" 

"There is every indication he is going to be just fine." She smiled reassuringly. "Now, if you all will just wait outside I'd like to talk to you briefly before you go." 

Before obeying the doctor's instructions, Mulder returned briefly to Walter's side. "I'll be back first thing in the morning," he promised. 

"I'll be here." 

## 

The quarter hour chimes of the grandfather's clock in the hall sounded preternaturally loud in the quiet house. Mulder turned over and stared at the bedside clock. 2:15 am. He sighed, knowing sleep was as far away as Walter. He rubbed tiredly at his gritty feeling eyes. Sliding over towards the other side of the large bed, he buried his face in Walter's pillow. There was still a slight hint of Walter's scent lingering on the material. A floorboard creaked somewhere downstairs. Rarely had he felt so alone, or the house so big or empty. Walter had been living with him for only a few days, but in that brief time his presence had become as necessary as the air to breathe, and as all-pervasive, filling every nook and cranny of his home. Their home. 

Perhaps it had been a mistake to turn down the offer to stay with the Gunmen tonight. But somehow he just had not wanted to deal with people, even people who loved, or at least liked, him a lot. His hand touched the empty space beside him on the bed and he suddenly felt very cold. He drew his knees up towards his chest, hoping to conserve some body warmth, even while realizing it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. 

Doctor Howard had informed them that afternoon that unless the tests turned up something to contradict her initial findings, Walter might be allowed to come home tomorrow. 'No damage to the heart muscle,' she had said. Those words had been like a reprieve. The doctor had then refused to tell them any more until she had made her final diagnosis, and no amount of wheedling or cajoling by the four of them could shake that resolve. Damn, he missed Scully. She'd have given him lots of information, with lots of fifty-dollar words, and that always made him feel like they somehow had a handle on the situation. 

But with a little luck Walter would be home tomorrow. Anything else he'd deal with as it came. Tomorrow. Exactly five hours and thirty-eight minutes until visiting hours began and he could see Walter again. He briefly considered downing a couple of sleeping pills before rejecting the notion. If there was a phone call in the night he could not afford to be groggy. He consoled himself with the thought that at least Walter was getting a good night's rest. 

* * *

"What?" Walter asked confusedly, as he was awakened from a deep sleep. He focused with difficulty on the small, heart shaped face bending over him. 

"Time for your sleeping pill, Mr. Skinner," the nurse said sweetly. 

"Sleeping pill?" he repeated stupidly. "Sleeping pill. Why do I need a sleeping pill?" He tried to make sense of the situation. "I was asleep." He realized his voice had risen a notch. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's on your chart." The young woman now had the look a mother gets when asked by her child why he has to do something he doesn't like. "Here, swallow this, if you wouldn't mind." She was still smiling. 

Walter did not feel like returning the gesture. "Go away." 

"As soon as you take your pill." She held two small paper cups, one containing a small white capsule, the other some water. "Of course, if you'd prefer, I'm sure we could give you a shot instead." The smile did not waver. 

Walter fought down the strong impulse to tell her exactly what she could do with that pill. Nurse Bradford might look like a spun candy confection, but he had discovered to his dismay that she had the soul of a concentration camp commander. He had already suffered too many shots and proddings from her dainty little hands to chance it. He snatched the pill and cup from her with a scowl. He swallowed it quickly and lay back down, pointedly shutting his eyes. 

"Get a good night's rest now, Mr. Skinner," Bradforth breathed silkily, letting the door close softly behind her. 

"If people'd leave me alone I might," he snarled to himself. 

When he had first arrived he had been in enough emotional and physical shock to just let things happen around and to him. And, as he had admitted to Mulder, being scared to death didn't help. But as the day and evening wore on, and he began to feel better, his temper became more and more frayed at the constant attention. Doctor Howard had at last threatened to keep him here a week unless he behaved, which finally kept his mouth under control. Mulder, you'd better get me out of here tomorrow, he thought as he began drifting off once more. 

The door to his room sighed open and someone with very large feet and a squeaky cart tromped in. Walter opened one eye and in disbelief watched the janitor empty his trashcan. At least, he thought unselfishly, Mulder is getting a good night's sleep. 

## 

"Walter?" Mulder poked his head into room 327 and almost retreated back into the hall at the scowl that greeted his entrance. It was immediately changed into a blinding smile. 

"Sorry, Fox, I thought it was one of the guards." 

"Guards?" he queried, frowning slightly. He shut the door behind him and went to the side of the bed. He leaned down and gave the patient a long kiss. 

"This isn't a hospital, it's a correctional facility for bad boys who don't eat their vegetables," Walter whispered conspiratorially. 

Mulder smiled slightly. "You don't like it here, I take it. And," he paused momentarily, while he carefully studied Walter's face, "you're feeling better." He sat down on the edge of the bed and held out a single yellow rose. "Here, for you." 

Walter's eyes turned warm as he took the proffered flower. They stared at each other for a long moment before he broke the silence. "Miss me?" 

"If you are going to ask asinine questions, Walter, I might as well go home." 

Walter laughed and grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare! You're getting me out of here and back to your place." 

"Doctor allowing, there's nothing I want more." 

A puzzled frown suddenly creased Walter's forehead. "Mulder," he asked hesitatingly, "why are we whispering?" 

"Actually," Mulder confessed, "I snuck in here before visiting hours. I got here a little early, but I just couldn't..." 

"...wait any longer," Doctor Howard finished for him. 

Mulder started from his seat and spun round to face the doctor. 

"Caught! In the act!" he heard Walter stage whisper. 

"Mister Mulder," the doctor snapped at him. 

"Yes?" Mulder asked, uncertainly. She thrust a capped flask forward and he had to take it or let it drop. He took it. 

"While you are visiting, should you feel the need to urinate you will use that flask, then have a nurse page me and I will have it dealt with. Is that clear?" 

Mulder's instinct for self-preservation kicked in and he fought back the urge to snarl at her. "Understood," he mumbled. 

"Now, out." She pointed to the door, but a smile was softening her stern face. "I'd like to talk to our patient here." 

"May I stay?" Mulder asked even though he had no intention of leaving. 

Before the doctor could answer, Walter spoke up. "I'd like him to hear whatever you have to tell me." 

"Well...." She turned as the door opened. 

"Hey, Walter...." Byers, Frohike and Langly stood in the doorway, frozen into immobility by the doctor's forbidding expression. Large stuffed animals of indeterminate form were held in three pairs of arms. 

"Gentlemen, is this quite...normal for you?" Doctor Howard asked levelly. 

"It's normal for them," Walter nodded, excluding himself in an attempt to retain some semblance of dignity. 

"Mr. Mulder may stay. You other three," she pointed to the Gunmen, "will be called from the waiting room when we are finished." 

Byers gave her his best sneer, but left quietly. Langly and Frohike could be heard reciting "Paging Doctor Howard, Doctor Fine, Doctor Howard," as they made their retreat. 

Mulder snickered as the doctor rolled her eyes. It was obviously not the first time she had been stooged. 

Dr. Howard finally seemed to relax and gave Walter a blinding smile. "Do you remember a Colonel Samuel G. Howard of the US Marine Corps?" 

"Oh, shit! Don't tell me you're Sam's little girl!" Walter all but burbled. 

Mulder sighed, made himself as comfortable as possible in the bedside chair, and prepared to hear some old war stories. 

## 

After having been ordered from the room while more blood was taken and other indignities visited upon Walter's body, Mulder went outside so he could use his cellphone. Even though Scully had missed out on the action he knew that she would want to be updated on Walter's condition, especially since she had been involved when Walter had collapsed those months ago at the Hoover Building. 

He pulled out the phone and thumbed down the preset buttons. The first one was for the house, the second for Walter's cell, the third...he pressed it and waited while it rung. "Scully?" 

"Who?" responded a young female voice. 

"Uh..." he pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. It wasn't his. He'd grabbed Walter's instead. "Uh...Lauren?" he asked quickly, hoping she hadn't hung up on him. 

"Who is this?" 

"This is Mulder...uh, Fox Mulder." 

"What do you want?" 

"I thought you would want to know that Walt...your Uncle Walter was in the hospital. But he's doing okay now," he hastened to add. "He'll be going home today. Just thought you'd like to know." He knew he was babbling, not having been at all prepared for this surprise conversation. 

"Yeah. Okay. Uh...thanks." 

When the line went dead he cut his end of the connection and grimaced. 

## 

Walter looked up to find someone standing at the foot of his hospital bed regarding him solemnly. "Dr. Plummer! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, Mr. Skinner," the rotund man said, shaking his head slightly, "I am your physician, if you recall." He retrieved the patient's clipboard from where it was hooked over the end of the bed, briefly scanning the information. 

"Oh, right," was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth. Not the most intelligent rejoinder, he thought, surprised at how off balance he felt. 

"I've had a long talk with Dr. Howard," the doctor said, looking up from the chart, "and I concur with her diagnosis. And prescribed treatment." 

"It was only stress," Walter mumbled. 

Dr. Plummer moved around to stand next to his patient. "Not only. Don't make the mistake of dismissing this. Untreated, stress can develop into something much more life-threatening." He suddenly smiled. "After many years of practicing medicine, I've found the body does not like to be ignored. It usually makes you pay attention to it, one way or the other." 

Walter sighed, knowing whichever way he cut it he was outnumbered, so he might as well suck it up with as much grace as possible. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "It's just that there's a lot happening in my life right now. Things I just can't put on hold." 

"Are they worth the chance of developing a real heart condition?" 

"What!?" His heart started pounding very fast. 

Dr. Plummer pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. "I'm not trying to frighten you, but it's a possibility." 

"Well, you're doing a damn good job." The idea of doing a repeat performance of the last twenty-four hours held absolutely no appeal. 

"Walter, this time you were lucky - there was no permanent damage to the heart muscle. But the heart can only be put through so much before something gives. Remember what I just said about the body? Right now it's trying to tell you what it needs. Rest. If you go on ignoring it, it may try a more drastic tactic." 

"The whole mind/body thing?" That, he understood. 

"Something like that. Now, I've scheduled you for an examination on Monday morning at 10." 

"I'll be there." 

"Good." He rose to his feet and, extending his hand, exchanged a goodbye handshake with his patient. "Then I'll see you on Monday." 

When he was alone, Walter settled back against the pillows, knowing he had some serious decisions to make. 

## 

All the necessary paperwork had been completed and he was finally being allowed to take Walter home. Mulder opened the door to room 327 and walked straight into the middle of an argument. 

"I don't need to get into that thing." 

"Mr. Skinner, I'm afraid you have no choice." 

"I'm afraid I do." 

"Am I interrupting something? Mulder asked mildly. 

Walter and a nurse were squared off, a wheelchair positioned directly between them. This is all we need, Mulder thought. Having been wheeled out of enough hospitals he knew that the honor of walking out on two legs was usually reserved for heads of state. 

"The nurse was trying to tell me she has to wheel me out of here in this." Walter gestured dismissively at the wheelchair. "I'm not crippled!" 

"What I was trying to explain to your friend are the hospital rules. It is required that patients are wheeled to the exit." She stood there, hands on ample hips, her stance proclaiming she was ready for battle. 

Mulder jumped in, hoping to crimp this before it went any further. "I'm sure Walter just didn't understand, Nurse ... " he quickly read her nametag, "Longstead." He saw his lover's head turn, and slitted eyes stared at him. "There's nothing in the regulations that says that I can't wheel him out, is there?" 

"No, nothing at all." She smiled toothily, suddenly reminding him uncomfortably of a barracuda. 

"Come on, Walter," he prompted. "You want to get out of here or not?" 

Walter muttered something under his breath, but plopped sulkily into the seat. Mulder breathed a little easier and moved to grab the handlebars. "Nurse Longstead," he said, "if you would be so kind?" He gestured at the door. 

"More than pleased," she replied, holding the door open for them. 

Mulder started pushing the chair down the hall with the nurse trailing behind. He looked over the top of the challenged head below him and only saw a pair of tightly crossed arms. "Think of this as chauffeur service." At that Walter tilted his head up, and brown eyes looked back at him. 

"You, I don't mind pushing me around," Walter told him. 

Mulder's eyebrows shot up, but he managed to refrain from commenting. Walter must have noticed his reaction because he caught sight of the tail end of a grin before the balding head lowered to face front. 

The short trip to the exit was accomplished without incident. He had parked the car in the pick-up lot within sight of the door and as soon as the wheelchair crossed the boundary from hospital to fresh air his passenger jumped up and hurried over to the Mercedes. Leaving the wheelchair in the possession of Longstead, Mulder followed him and used the remote to unlock the doors. Walter was already settled comfortably in the passenger seat by the time he slid in behind the wheel. 

The traffic was already getting heavy as the first wave of workers began making their way home, so Mulder soon found himself settling into the stop/start pattern of rush hour. This meant he couldn't afford to take his eyes off the road for more than a moment, when what he wanted to do most was just soak in the sight of Walter. However, it still didn't take him long to notice that something was occupying his lover's mind. Walter had his head resting back against the neck support, silently staring out the passenger side window. 

"Penny for your thoughts." 

"Not worth it," Walter answered without turning. 

He started feeling a little concerned about Walter's abrupt change of mood. He had been so cheerful in the hospital but now seemed so subdued. Yet subdued was the wrong word, Mulder decided; it was something else, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 

"God, hospitals are depressing," Walter spat out heatedly. 

"Amen to that." His low-spoken words of fervent agreement at least got Walter to look at him. 

"It must have been hard on you," Walter said finally. "I guess I've been so focused on me I hadn't thought of what this was doing to you." Walter paused for a moment before finishing with a low, "I'm sorry." 

Mulder shrugged deprecatingly. He allowed himself a brief glance away from traffic to smile at the concerned face studying him. "It's not important. All that matters to me is that you're all right." Reaching out with his right hand, it was immediately caught in a strong, warm grip. He was only released when both hands were needed to steer. 

They continued their trip wrapped in a now easy silence, punctuated only by an occasional yawn from the passenger side. The Virginia countryside was still gripped in the hold of winter, but the first buds were starting to show themselves at the tips of the trees. Mulder always found the renewal of life intriguing, which was probably one of the reasons this was his favorite season of the year. He turned to look at his now nodding companion and smiled. Especially this year. 

As he pulled up in front of their house he glanced at the car clock and realized with a shock at how long the return drive had taken. It was getting close to supper and he was sure Walter must be hungry. Hospital food had nothing to recommend it. Letting the engine run, he gently shook the dozing man. 

"Hey, sleepy-head, we're home." 

"Mmmmm?" Walter rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he straightened in his seat. "I can tell you, Fox, hospitals are not the place to get a good night's sleep." 

"You can get one tonight," Mulder promised, looking forward to one himself. "Why don't you go inside while I put the car away?" 

Walter nodded his agreement as he got out of the Mercedes. Mulder saw him heading up the stairs to the front door as he pulled the car around the corner of the house to the garage. The Grangers had taken care of the delivery of the Jaguar and it now sat in the place next to his so he was especially careful when he opened his car door not to ding it. 

His return took a little longer than estimated when he was waylaid by Mr. Granger, wanting to know how Mr. Skinner was doing. After assuring him that all was well and giving a few extra orders to be transmitted to Mrs. Granger, he walked back to the house, letting himself in the back way. He did a quick check of the refrigerator and discovered a large, covered pot with heating instructions attached. Lifting the lid, he smiled, commending Mrs. Granger's choice of stew for supper. It was one of Walter's favorites. Following the note's instructions he popped it in the oven, wanting to get something warm and nourishing inside his convalescent as soon as possible. 

Wandering out to the hall, he wondered where the other man had gotten to in the large house. His question was answered as soon as he walked into the living room. Walter was stretched out on the couch, sound asleep. He stood there for a long time, looking down at the slumbering man, before retrieving a light throw from the back of a chair. With great care he covered his lover with it, then stole quietly from the room. 

* * *

The address Lauren had wheedled out of her mother, and a good map, got her to the house. There had been no trouble getting through the gate, which had surprised her. She pulled up the long graveled drive to the house with a churning mix of feelings knotting her stomach. Foremost was her worry about her uncle, or she wouldn't even be here, but she also dreaded facing his...lover. She could barely make herself even think the word. This Mulder person was someone she had heard about for the last nine years of her life - whenever her uncle had come over there was always some story about, or interruption by, the man. And yet in all that time she had never considered the possibility that he might be anything other than her uncle's friend and colleague. Bringing her Mustang to a stop in front of the old Tudor house, she sat for a few minutes working up enough courage to see if anyone was home. Calling herself a coward, and a few other names besides, she finally got herself out of the car and up the steps to the front door. She pressed the doorbell firmly, shook the startling wetness from her hand, and waited. 

The door swung open and Mulder stood there, his mouth moving like a landed fish. He finally managed to get out, "Lauren? What...?" 

"What's happened to my uncle? I..." She was horrified as a choked sob escaped her, halting her flow of words. 

That one break in her voice was enough to galvanize Mulder. "He's all right, Lauren," he said reassuringly. "He was released from the hospital this afternoon and he's home." 

"Home?" She was momentarily taken aback, thinking of another time and place. 

Mulder flushed slightly. "Walter's here." For a moment neither of them quite knew what to say. "Come on inside," he finally said, breaking the awkward silence. 

She followed him in and looked around curiously while he hung her coat in the hall closet. 

"It must have been a long drive," Mulder commented softly. She started, not realizing he had come up behind her, and hoped that he hadn't noticed her reaction. She refused to be intimidated by this man. "I imagine a hot cup of tea would be nice. If you'd like to come in the kitchen, I have some water heating on the stove." 

Her eyes slitted and she wondered what stupid game he was playing. "I don't want a cup of tea. What I want is to see my uncle!" 

"He's resting now and I don't think we should disturb him." His calm facade started slipping and he unconsciously began twisting his hands together. 

She stared with hostility at the tall man and wondered what the hell was going on. He was the reason for the rift in her family, and her feelings towards him were less than charitable. Right now, there was nothing that she couldn't attribute to him. "Are you trying to say he doesn't want to see me?" 

"What?" Mulder said, looking totally bewildered. He stared at her for a long moment with odd hazel eyes before realization seemed to sink in. Shaking his head, he stammered, "No, he's sleeping, that's all." 

"Uncle Walter never sleeps during the day," she accused. 

"He's in the living room, Lauren. Asleep. You can go in if you want." 

There was something this man was trying to keep from her, and she was going to find out what. She moved quickly towards where she thought the living area should be, Mulder following more slowly. 

Coming to a halt just inside the entryway, the sight that greeted her froze her in her tracks. Her uncle lay curled on his side, sound asleep, on the couch. One hand lay by his head, open, as if asking for something. The rough features were relaxed in slumber, softening them, but there was a drawn look about the eyes and mouth that she did not remember being there. A lump slowly formed in her throat and she suddenly didn't know how to react to a surrogate father who appeared so vulnerable. Or so very human. She noted distantly that someone had covered him with a throw against the slight chill in the room. Bewildered, she turned to the man beside her and was dealt a second blow. Mulder, ignoring her, was staring intently at the sleeping man and the expression on his face left little to the imagination. He loves him! Her preconceived notions crumbled with that one thought. 

Mulder turned at that moment and they locked gazes. The mute plea in his eyes was one she couldn't ignore. When he made a slight gesture towards the door, she nodded. They made a silent exit, leaving the sleeper to his rest. She continued to follow Mulder out to the warmth of the kitchen. 

## 

"I guess that's all," Mulder said slowly, spreading his hands. "What he needs right now is to relax. Rest. Let his body and his mind take a small vacation." He smiled, and suddenly seemed very young. "And I have a few ideas." 

Lauren took a swallow of her tea before answering. "I'm just grateful it's not his heart. When I heard about it...." 

The man across the table from her bowed his head. "Everything happened so quickly, and then the crisis was over and it was only a matter of Walter having to stay overnight at the hospital." He looked so woebegone she had to squelch the urge to comfort him. 

She looked down into her cup, absently stirring the tea with her spoon, and refrained from telling Mulder about her phone conversation with her brother. "I'll call Christopher when I get back to college," she offered softly, wishing her younger sibling would grow up. It was amazing how much she had wanted to give him a good kick in the shorts after their talk comparing notes on their uncle's revelation. She hadn't been happy about the whole situation, but felt her brother's name-calling had been totally uncalled for. 

"Thank you. I wouldn't have looked forward to calling him." There was a long pause. "Do you think he'll ever forgive Walter?" 

"I don't think that's any of your concern," popped out of her mouth before she had time to consider her words. 

"I...okay. That's fair enough. It's just that I don't like to see Walter hurting the way he is. That does concern me. And he loves you both very much." 

"Damn," she said, rubbing her forehead. 

"Lauren?" 

"It's okay," she said, folding her hands tightly together. "Just a leftover of today's shakes." She swallowed a nervous laugh. "I just didn't think I'd be sitting here, having tea and calmly chatting with my uncle's..." she stammered awkwardly to a halt, embarrassed to feel a flush creep up her cheeks. 

"...lover." Mulder finished for her when it was obvious she was not going to say the word. "I do love him, Lauren." 

"I guess we have at least that in common," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "God, this is weird!" 

"I specialize in weird. But this isn't exactly your average situation," he concurred levelly. 

This time she couldn't help a laugh. "No, it certainly isn't that." Running her fingers through her hair she stared long and hard at the man sitting across the kitchen table from her. She was somewhat gratified to see he looked decidedly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "You known, after Uncle Walter told me, it took a long time for me to even believe it. It just didn't seem possible. Then, when it finally sunk in, I blamed you for everything. I tried very hard to make you the villain of the story, the person who single-handedly drove a wedge between Unc and Mom." She shook her head again. "You're not living up to my expectations, Mr. Mulder." 

"People seldom do," he said simply. "And I never wanted to cause anyone pain." 

"Then why did you start it? Why did he?" There, it was finally asked. 

"Because I loved him." 

"And my uncle?" Everything always came back to him. 

He shrugged. "You'll have to ask him about that. If he wants to tell you. But it was partly because I was his friend, and I needed him." His voice dropped very low. "I still do." Then a small twinkle appeared in his eyes as something seemed to occur to him. "Blame it on the aliens." 

"People always say that now, as if it explains everything." 

"No, it doesn't really explain anything, does it?" He got up abruptly and turned on the kitchen light. "It's staying light longer now, but dusk still gets here too early. By the end of winter I've gotten pretty tired of the short days." 

It was obvious that he was trying to steer the conversation away from any further personal discussion and she was surprised to find she agreed with him. She felt wrung out emotionally and was ready for a short break before the main event. "Yes, I'm ready for spring, myself." 

"You'll stay the night?" Mulder asked as he moved back to the table. "It's a long drive back and you haven't even talked to your uncle yet or had anything to eat." 

"I do have classes tomorrow and my spring finals are coming up..." 

"I know how much it'd mean to Walter if you would stay." 

"Well... I guess I can miss my morning class. I'm not that fond of economics anyway." She was amazed to find herself smiling at Mulder. 

He returned the smile almost shyly. "I'll start getting things ready for supper. I hope you like stew." 

"That'll be fine." She rose to her feet and slid the chair back under the table. "If you don't mind I'll wait in the living room. I'd just like to sit with him for awhile." She also wanted some time to herself to try and get her head together. 

Mulder nodded and then headed for the refrigerator. Opening it, he stuck his head inside, searching for something. "I'll call you when it's ready." 

## 

Walter, waking slowly from a deep sleep, felt totally disoriented. He sensed he was not in his usual sleeping place, and for a moment couldn't remember where he was. As he opened his eyes a newly familiar living room swam into focus, a single table lamp by the door the only illumination in the evening dark. As he sat up he felt someone's gaze on him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a figure in the wingback by the fireplace. He turned his head, expecting Mulder to be sitting there, finding someone else instead. 

"Lauren?" He wondered briefly if he were still asleep and dreaming. She couldn't actually be here in this house. 

Untucking her jeans-clad legs from under her, she placed her bare feet on the carpet next to her shoes. "Hi, Unc." 

It seemed as if neither of them knew what to say next. He studied her trim little figure with a wave of affection. God, he had missed her, he thought sadly. He felt tongue-tied, a state to which he was not accustomed, and felt angry with himself for not knowing what to do or say next. "I just..." 

"I wanted...." 

Their simultaneous start-up brought the conversation to an abrupt halt. Before he could think of anything else to say, Lauren leapt to her feet, rushed across the intervening space and threw her arms around his neck. He held on, wrapping her tightly in his arms, and guided her onto the couch next to him. He knew it was silly, but he wished he never had to let go of his little girl again. The sound of crying made him pull back slightly, and, placing a hand underneath her chin, he tilted her face up to him. 

"Hey, honey, I'm going to be okay, I just need..." 

"...'some rest'," Lauren snuffled out, wiping at her eyes. "I know. Mr. Mulder told me what the doctors said." She managed a watery smile and kissed him on the cheek. "Just a reaction, I guess, from this whole horrible day," she confessed, sitting back slightly on the sofa. 

Mulder had told her? He felt slightly off balance with this news and wondered what else had happened while he had been asleep. He was going to have to get a run-down from Mulder on what exactly they had talked about. Folding one of her small hands in his he asked, "Who told you to come?" 

"Mr. Mulder called me, but he didn't tell me much, so I decided to drive down. I don't even think he meant to call me. He thought I was someone called Scully." 

He gave her hand a squeeze and was given an answering one in response. "I'm sorry if you were worried, honey. I should have thought of it, but the last twenty-four hours have been...." He shook his head, not quite knowing how to adequately describe what it had been like. 

"You don't have to explain. I do understand. Anyway, Mr. Mulder has already apologized." She looked at him strangely. "Does he always take everything so - personally?" 

He couldn't help a small chuckle. "It's something you get used to." He looked down at their hands for a moment. "Do you think you could call him just...Mulder?" 

As if on cue, Mulder poked his head into the room. "I can see you're awake," he observed happily, "Perfect timing, as usual. Dinner's just about ready." 

"Good," Walter said, slapping his thighs with the flat of his hands for emphasis as he rose. "I'm starved." He watched as Lauren rose, too, and smiled as she slipped her arm through his. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't lost his family after all. 

## 

Lauren leaned back against the kitchen chair and sipped at her coffee. The stew had been delicious and very filling, and at least she wouldn't have to worry that her uncle would starve in this house. But it had definitely been one of the strangest meals she had ever participated in, she decided, as she watched Mulder clear the table and begin piling the dishes in the sink. The three of them had talked, and she had even been coaxed into laughter by some of her uncle's stories about the nurses at INOVA, but nothing of any real importance had been said. Which was just as well, she realized, since meals and serious talk really shouldn't be mixed. 'Causes indigestion', her paternal grandmother had once informed her. 

When she looked across the table she found her uncle staring at her with a fond smile. "Come on, honey, let's take our coffee into the living room." He looked over at Mulder as he got to his feet. 

"Go on. I'll join you in a few minutes. Just need to tidy up a bit so Mrs. Granger doesn't have a fit when she comes over in the morning." 

Her uncle chuckled as he led the way out of the kitchen and back into the living room. She sat beside him on the couch, holding her cup tightly in her hands. A long silence stretched between them, but before it could become uncomfortable, Lauren leaned back and cuddled up against the warm body next to her. She felt his arm slide around her shoulders, pulling her close, and the silence became a warm, comforting thing. 

"I'm glad you came, Lauren," the deep voice rumbled softly and he laid a brief kiss on her head. 

"Me, too," she confessed. "I still have a few things to work out, but how I feel about you hasn't changed." The arm around her shoulders tightened briefly. 

She had so many questions, didn't know what to ask or if she should even ask them, but realized that it was probably now or never. After taking a swallow of the hot brew, she placed her cup on the coffee table and turned to look at the man sitting beside her. "Unc...." 

At that moment Mulder wandered into the room, a tray with a coffeepot and cream and sugar on it held in his hands. He placed it on the coffee table in front of them and smiled. "I know the two of you have a few things to talk about, so I'm going to disappear. I'll get the blue room ready for you, Lauren. Walter'll show you where it is when you want to go to bed." He held Walter's gaze for a heartbeat and something was exchanged, but she was not quite sure what it was. Then he turned back to her. "I'll see you in the morning." 

"Good night, Mulder. And thank you." 

He smiled at her before walking from the room. 

"He's not what I expected," she confided when he had gone. 

"Mulder's a good man." Walter laughed softly as he put his cup on the table. "A little strange at times but a good man. Someday..." 

"What?" she prompted into the long pause. 

"I know it's too soon to ask now, but maybe someday you'll get to know him a little better." He looked at her with a strange, almost pleading expression in his brown eyes. 

She recalled the unguarded look she had caught on Mulder's face that afternoon and asked, "He really loves you, doesn't he?" 

"Yes." The tone of that single word left no room for doubt. "Just like I love him." 

"I still can't understand how you could and still..." 

"Still...?" 

"...have stayed with Aunt Sharon all those years." There, she had said it. 

He sighed and settled back heavily against the pillows. "It's a fallacy, you know, about only being to have one love. A person loves a lot of people in their life. You don't just have a finite amount to give, so if you love someone a lot it doesn't take away from what you feel for others." He smiled and his eyes seemed focused on something far away. "It's one of those things that the more you give away the more you have." 

"It sounds like one of those eastern things you used to study when I was a kid. You were always spouting something like that." 

He turned his entire attention back to her. "I remember. It was a rather intense phase while it lasted," he said with a smile. "But there were a lot of good ideas I picked up from it that still make sense." He took her hand and squeezed it briefly. "I still have love for your Aunt, even though she's gone. We had a lot of good years together, and some not so good ones. And I love you and Chris. I hope you'll be able to accept that I love Mulder, too." She was amazed to find herself resonating with his obvious distress. This definitely was not in her game plan. He turned his gaze to the floor, a deep frown shadowing his forehead. She could feel the tension radiating from the solid body beside her like a physical thing. She wasn't surprised when he stood abruptly. "It's getting chilly in here, how about I light the fire? I have the feeling we're going to be up for a while." 

She nodded in agreement and watched as he knelt in front of the fireplace and laid a match to the kindling. The small flame caught quickly and started to spread. As she watched the flickering light, the thought kept going through her mind that maybe she was going to hear more than she really wanted to know. When her uncle looked as if he were satisfied with his handiwork, he rose to his feet and returned to the couch. 

"I'm not even sure where to start." He looked a bit lost as he turned his eyes on her. 

"The beginning's always a good place," she offered, and recaptured his hand. 

## 

Walter could still feel the sensation of his niece's goodnight kiss on his cheek and he touched it briefly. He crossed the hall to the door of his room and paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. God, I'm tired! was all he could think as he briefly rubbed at the small of his back. He straightened before entering the bedroom. 

He found Mulder propped up in bed, although his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and regular. A book lay open in his lap marking the place where he had fallen asleep while waiting for his lover to come upstairs. The nightstand light shone in his face, highlighting the dark smudges under his eyes that until now Walter hadn't really noticed. The last day must have been hell on you, Foxlet, he thought protectively. 

The sound of the door snicking shut was enough to wake Mulder and the sleepy eyes opened, trying to focus on him. Mulder rubbed at them briefly before checking the bedside clock. "It's almost one." Mulder didn't have to say any more; Walter already knew what he was thinking. 

"I know," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "But I got that nap this afternoon. You're the one that looks like he really needs some sleep." 

Walter caught the muttered, "why, thank you so much," as he went into the bathroom and couldn't help smiling at the tone. It didn't take him long to undress and finish his nightly rituals at the sink, not with a nice warm bed waiting for him in the other room. All he wanted to do right now was to cuddle up next to Mulder and fall into a deep sleep. 

When Walter emerged he saw that his partner had curled up in his regular sleeping place, but was staying awake until Walter joined him. Only the lamp on Walter's side of the bed was still on. He crawled under the covers and turned off the light. As soon as he had gotten comfortable, Mulder settled into his favorite position with his head lying on Walter's shoulder. He felt a small sigh whisper against his skin. 

"How did it go?" 

"Better than I could have hoped." Walter pulled the warm body a little closer. "We talked about what happened and how I feel about you and her and Chris. And even Judy. Got a lot of things settled tonight. Then we sort of got caught up with our lives." He shook his head. "I guess we talked, I mean really talked, more this evening than in a lot of years. It felt good." 

Mulder moved his head slightly and laid a light kiss on his neck. "I'm glad. I think I could grow very fond of Lauren." He chuckled softly. "She reminds me a lot of you." 

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not," he said lightly. 

"You can take it for one." 

Walter rewarded his lover with a brief kiss. For a while he lay there, not speaking, just enjoying the feeling of being in his own bed again. He felt himself drifting and said, more to himself than to Mulder, "You know, I'm almost glad this whole heart thing happened if it gives me my niece back." 

Mulder sat up abruptly in bed and he could see the shadowy form looming over him like an avenging angel. His imagination supplied his lover's expression and he wished he could retract his words. 

"If I weren't so glad to have you back with me..." Mulder began heatedly. 

"Fox," he interrupted, wanting to stop the impending tirade, "I didn't mean it that way." He reached up and pulled Mulder back into his embrace. "And you know it. I can imagine what you went through. But at least it's not like when Scully was sick. I'm going to be fine." 

Slowly the other man's body relaxed. "I know." Mulder's arms tightened around him. "It's just that...I never want to have to go through that again, Walter." There was a slight hint of desperation in the soft voice. 

"I'm back. And I'm here to stay." Walter went in for a kiss and when they parted for air he smiled into the darkness thinking about all the years ahead they would have together. It was that comforting thought that followed him finally down into sleep. 

## 

After turning on the light, Lauren shut the door behind her. She felt very tired but also filled with a sense of peace that had been eluding her for a while. She and her uncle had put a lot of demons to rest tonight. Taking a couple of steps towards the bed she stopped and stared. The bed had been already turned down and a large nightshirt and oversized silk robe had been laid out neatly at its foot. Obviously Mulder's doing. A smile teased at her mouth as she studied his handiwork. 

She quickly changed into the nightshirt, wanting to get to sleep as soon as possible. A very early start faced her in the morning if she had any hope of getting back to Bryn Mawr for her eleven thirty class. As she entered the bathroom, rolling up the sleeves to her new acquisition, she stared in amazement at the array before her. In a row on the sink sat a boxed toothbrush, unused tube of toothpaste, box of tissues, comb, deodorant and soap. Mulder's work again, she concluded, and found the thoughtfulness it implied a little touching. She wondered if she were getting a little soft in the head at her instinctive liking for the man. 

Fifteen minutes later the light was out, the bedside alarm set, and she was comfortably ensconced between the covers. Even though she was very tired sleep didn't come immediately as the events of the day paraded past her closed eyelids. Life was rarely predictable, she was coming to realize. The fact that she was sleeping in this house tonight proved that. Mom would have a cow if she knew I was here! floated through her mind. Then her thoughts wandered across the hall to her uncle's room. To Mulder's room. She ruthlessly pushed aside the shadowy images that thought conjured in her brain, and plopped over onto her side. That was something neither she nor her imagination had any inclination to explore. Slowly her muscles relaxed and she finally found herself drifting as she began thinking about her latest boyfriend and their plans for the weekend. 

## 

The tantalizing odors of something cooking pulled Walter towards the kitchen and his stomach grumbled loudly in response as he pushed open the door. 

"Hi, Unc," Lauren greeted him from her seat at the kitchen table. 

"Good morning." He couldn't quite believe the sight of Mulder up this early and conscious, much less cooking up a storm. There was always a first time for everything, he thought with a tinge of amusement. 

"Eggs and sausage?" Mulder asked over his shoulder from his station at the stove. 

"Sounds fine to me." He sat down next to his niece and helped himself to the pot of coffee on the table. "You sleep okay?" he queried her. 

She smiled at him warmly. "Great. I hit the doze button twice before I could get myself up. If it weren't for class I'd have slept till ten." 

At that moment Mulder placed a heaping plate of food in front of Lauren. Her eyes got very large as she took in the amount he had given her. "I don't think I'll be able to finish all that," she warned the cook. 

"Eat whatever you want. It's a long drive to Pennsylvania and I don't want you to get hungry. Especially since you won't be able to eat lunch until late." He turned back to the stove and cracked two more eggs into the skillet, "I've packed up a couple of sandwiches and other things for you to eat later." 

Walter choked back his laughter and made the mistake of making eye contact with Lauren. The answering amusement he found there forced him to look away before his control broke. After all, he didn't want to hurt Mulder's feelings when he was being so earnest in his desire to please. When his breakfast was put in front of him he simply smiled his thanks and dug in. 

## 

"Well, I guess this is it." A tinge of sadness clung to Lauren as she stood on the front stoop, keys in hand, ready to leave. The long and short of it was that she had always hated good-byes and this one in particular was getting to her. She looked up at the early morning sky and frowned slightly. "Damn, looks like it's trying to rain." 

"You be careful if the roads start slicking up," Walter warned. "Especially around the city at this hour." 

Both of them were obviously trying to put off saying good-bye to each other, she realized, and the weather was always a good bet at drawing out a conversation. She sighed, and as she turned to give her uncle a hug she found herself encircled by two strong arms and pulled into a tight embrace. Wrapping her arms about his body, she stood in the chill morning air enjoying his warmth as well as the feeling of being very much loved. Finally, she made herself pull away and turned her face up for a kiss. That accomplished, they started walking arm in arm towards her car. Her uncle's hand squeezed hers once, gently, before he let her go. 

"If you need anything, anything at all, you call me. Okay?" She hated to hear that trace of uncertainty in his voice. 

"I promise." She gave him a last reassuring hug before opening the Mustang's door and sliding behind the wheel. Rolling down the window she looked up at him, and smiled. "And remember to call me after your doctor's appointment on Monday. I want to know what he says." 

He grimaced slightly but nodded his agreement. "I'll call some time after supper." Then he looked at her steadily and added, "You take care, sweetheart." Turning, he started walking slowly back towards the house, where Mulder was now waiting on the front steps. She realized it was another tactful gesture on the man's part, giving them some privacy in which to say their good-byes. She shook her head ruefully as she started up the engine. The car edged forward only a few feet before she put her foot on the brake, unable to leave without one reassurance. 

"Mulder," she called out the window and watched as he hurried over to the car. She looked up into the intent face and read the unspoken question written there. "Promise me you'll take good care of him." She was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. "Promise me." 

His eyes widened slightly, then filled with sudden warmth. "I promise, Lauren," he said softly. 

"I'll hold you to that, Mr. Mulder," she said and held out her hand to seal their bargain. His hand was not as massive as her uncle's but it was still large enough to engulf hers in a surprisingly strong grip. Without another word Mulder released her and stepped back. Laying her foot lightly on the accelerator she started the car forward down the long drive. Looking into the rear view mirror, her last sight before turning from view of the house was that of her uncle standing on the top step waving good-bye. 

* * *

Mulder watched as the silver car disappeared around the first curve in the drive then turned back to the house. The first light drops of rain started falling and he quickened his steps. He was cold and he did not want to be soaking wet as well. As he climbed the front steps he found that Walter was still staring down the stretch of driveway, his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets against the raw March morning. He touched the broad shoulder lightly. "We should get inside." 

Walter turned and regarded him solemnly. "What was that all about?" 

He found himself smiling. "Lauren made me promise to take care of you. If I don't, I gather I'll have to answer to her personally. If you don't watch out she's going to grow up to be like Scully." Glancing up at the darkening sky, he shivered as a particularly cold blast of wind whipped around the corner, "Speaking of taking care...." 

"Don't think I know enough to get in out of the rain?" Walter punched him lightly on the arm before retreating into the warmth of the house. 

As soon as they were safely inside Mulder shook his head, dispersing the drops of rain that had collected lightly on his hair. 

"Do we have any coffee left?" Walter asked. 

"Enough for an army," he confessed and was rewarded by a wide grin. 

"Got a bit carried away, didn't you?" Walter commented with a raised eyebrow. "Turning into a real Martha Stewart." 

Here was Mulder, a man with an intellect the size of the great outdoors, and the best response he could come up with was blowing a raspberry. He trailed after Walter, who led the way back into the kitchen. Sitting down at the cleared table he watched as two large mugs of coffee were prepared. Walter placed one mug in front of him, while the other was put in front of the other chair. Walter sat next to him, sipped at the hot brew, and wrinkled his nose slightly. Another teaspoon of sugar was added before he seemed happy. 

"So, she asked you to take care of me," he said quietly, a pleased look on his face. 

"She's not the only one who loves you, you know." Mulder cupped his hands around the full mug, enjoying the heat on his chilled fingers. 

"I know," he said, staring into his coffee. There was a definite smile on his face as he looked up. "And will you?" 

"Someone has to." Mulder returned the smile. "But let's not tempt fate. House rule number two: No Stratego." 

The End 

* * *

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